So there was lunch almost every day, and the walk to the Subway, and that hour stolen from the French class once a week, all through October and November, until the trip to Europe was only a few weeks ahead of them. Mr. Plummer hadn’t actually told Hardy he was to go, but the thing was understood. Mr. Loomis, the buyer, was taking pains to train him, and had once or twice said such things as:
“You’ll see how that is for yourself, Hardy, when you’re in France.”
“It’ll probably be before Christmas,” said Hardy. “The idea is that I’m not to be told until Hallock is gone, because I might slack up on my present work. Silly, childish way to do—as if it was a treat for a good boy!”
“Well, it will be a treat, won’t it?” said Edith. “You’ve always—”
He looked across the table at her. The cold air had brought no color into her cheeks. She looked weary, downcast. He could see that her smile was an effort, and in her eyes was the look that he couldn’t bear.
“No!” he said. “I wish to Heaven I wasn’t going! I mean it! If I have to leave you like this—”
“Joe,” she began, and was silent for a minute. “I—I know it’s selfish of me; but—oh, Joe, when I think of your going away—”
Mr. Plummer, who was also taking lunch in that restaurant, saw his promising young man lean across the table and lay his hand on that of Miss Patterson from the auditing department.
“Too bad!” thought Mr. Plummer. “A boy with a remarkable future before him—and getting himself entangled before he’s begun! Too bad! Too bad!”
Fortunately, however, he could not hear what monstrous folly the boy spoke.