“All right, Joe. Then—perhaps you had better start right off.”
“Two weeks; perhaps less. Good-by.”
The old man took his hand. Barnes bent over him and kissed his forehead. Then he went out of the room and back to Eleanor. Here again he saw no reason for delay. In reply to his knock she bade him come in. She was sitting alone in the same position as when he had left her.
“I’ve told your father,” he said without preamble, “and now I’ve come to say good-by to you.”
“You’ve told Daddy—already?”
“Yes. He bore it very well.”
“You’re so hasty,” she stammered. “You take away one’s breath.”
“Some things are best done hastily,” he answered.
“But this—why, Aunt Philomela is quite broken up at the idea of your leaving. She—she has had to lie down.”
“Then I’ll not disturb her.”