"Oh, that may be a long way off," she replied calmly. "You see, Barry and I quarrelled yesterday. We both have vile tempers,—perfectly detestable tempers. Of course, we will make up again—we always do—but there may come a time when he will say, 'Oh, what's the use trying to put up with you any longer?' and then it will all be over."
She was tying her bonnet strings as she made this astonishing statement. Her chin being tilted upward, she looked straight up into his eyes the while her long, shapely fingers busied themselves with the ribbons.
"I guess you have found out what kind of a temper I have, haven't you?" she added genially. As he said nothing (being unable to trust his voice): "I know I shall lead poor Barry a dog's life. If he knew what was good for him he would avoid me as he would the plague."
He swallowed hard. "You—you will not fail to come with me to-morrow morning on the purchasing tour," he said, rather gruffly. "I'll be helpless without you."
"I wouldn't miss it for anything," she cried.
As they walked down to the gate she turned to him and abruptly said:
"Barry is going down the river next week. He expects to be away for nearly a fortnight. Has he said anything to you about it?"
Kenneth started. Next week? The dark of the moon.
"Not a word," he replied grimly.