(And she wondered if he guessed how she had revelled in the sorting-out of their more or less joint property into two separate heaps—his and hers, his and hers now—for a little while.)
He came down a few steps, indecisively—then stopped. It was as though he were afraid to leave his stronghold, afraid to touch his possessions lest by their associations they should re-forge that snapped link with everyday.
"This business is an awful nuisance," he remarked; "she ought to have let us know."
"Of course she ought. That woman's a humbug. It would serve her right if we refused to stop——"
"You've unpacked already," hastily. Then, to cover the betrayal: "You're always in such a hurry——"
"I had to get the trunk out of that poky hole: one can't budge in it, as it is."
"Better than being stowed away in a draughty garret...."
"I'd change with you; it's airier——"
"Is it?—under the roof!"
Both continued to pretend and to grumble, refusing, in their present fierce grab at the isolation vouchsafed them, to mingle even their thanks.