She asked him nothing about the end, and he was glad, for it had been extremely harrowing. Still, he was surprised at her want of curiosity, and had a moment of thinking her callous. He had somehow mysteriously arrived at an understanding of Enoch, was shaken by a sense of loss, even grief, and yearned to share his emotion with Agnes.
Having been for some time withdrawn in thought she started slightly. “Did you promise?” she asked. “Was there time for that?”
“Yes,” he said. “Don’t let it upset you,” he continued gently. “You won’t have to think about it. I’ve got it worked out in my mind. There can be funeral services here like they have sometimes when nobody goes to the grave or when there ain’t going to be any burial. Then I can go alone with him to the mill. There’s nobody at the mill, you know. It’s shut.”
She regarded him with a troubled, unbelieving expression.
“Alone!” she said.
“I’d rather to,” he said, “with everybody being so superstitious about it.”
“But I shall go,” she said.
“May take a long time,” he said uneasily. “I’ll have the furnace going, of course, but it’s got to be kept going and watched I don’t know how long.”
She met these difficulties with a scornful gesture.
“All right,” he said. “He’ll be pleased you feel that way.”