And he was going to be married. Incredible, laughter-moving, but a fact. No more the result of deliberate purpose than any other change that had come about in his life, than the flight of years and the vanishment of youth. Fate so willed it, and here he stood.
Someone climbed the stairs, breaking upon his reverie. It was Buncombe, who smiled through a settled gloom.
'All done? I shan't be much longer here myself. House too big for me.'
'Ah! it is rather large.'
'I'm thinking of changes.—You know something about my affairs.—Yes—changes——'
Rolfe had never seen the man so dismal before; he tried to inspirit him, but with small result.
'It's the kids that bother me,' said Buncombe. Then he dropped his voice, and brought his head nearer.
'You're going to get married.' His eyes glinted darkly. 'I'm—going to get divorced.'
And with a grim nod the man moved away.