"It is difficult to say. Perhaps."
"But--you must have decided suddenly?"
"Yes."
"While we have been riding home?" Again he answered affirmatively; the blue eyes looked at him long. "Is it--is it serious?"
"A little."
"Men make so much of business, nowadays," she observed, "it--it always seems serious, I suppose. We--we are moving into the country in a few weeks. Shall I--shall we, see you before then?"
"To my regret, I am afraid not."
"And after"--in a voice matter-of-fact--"I think aunt has put you down for July; a house party; I don't recall the exact dates. You will come?"
"Shall we say, circumstances permitting--" "Certainly," a little stiffly, "circumstances permitting." She gave him her hand. "Au revoir! Or good-by, if you prefer it." He held the little gloved fingers; let them drop. There was a suggestion of hopelessness in the movement that fitted oddly his inherent vigor and self-poise; she started to draw away; an ineffable something held her.
"Good luck in your business!" she found herself saying, half-gaily, half-ironically.