"After all, it's too bad for me to inflict my troubles on you," she said.
"I don't mind," he answered quickly. "Only—hang it all, there does n't seem to be anything I can do!"
"I guess there is n't anything any one can do," she replied helplessly.
"So you're going away?"
"To-night," she nodded.
"To Étois?"
"Perhaps. Perhaps to India. Perhaps to Japan."
It was the indefiniteness that Monte did not relish. Even as she spoke, it was as if she began to disappear; and for a second he felt again the full weight of his thirty-two years. He was perfectly certain that the moment she went he was going to feel alone—more alone than he had ever felt in his life.
It was in the nature of a hunch. Within twenty-four hours he would be wandering over Paris as he had wandered yesterday. That would not do at all. Of course, he could pack up and go on to England, but at the moment he felt that it would be even worse there, where all the world spoke English.
"Suppose I order young Hamilton to leave Paris?" he asked.