“To go where?”
“To be happy,” she said, standing passively and looking in his face.
He roused himself, and said:
“Well, I’m all ready. I’ve only to stop at my room for my trunk.”
His hair was tangled, his eyes were bloodshot, his clothes tumbled and soiled.
“Wouldn’t you like to dress yourself?” she asked.
“Why, no; ain’t I dressed enough for you? No gentleman dresses when he’s going to travel.”
She said no more. The carriage came as Abel had ordered, a private conveyance to take them quite through to New York. All the time before it came Kitty Dunham moved solemnly about the room, seeing that nothing was left. The solemnity fretted Abel.
“What are you so sober about?” he asked impatiently.
“Because I am getting ready for a long journey,” she answered, tranquilly.