“Hardly a word. But he told me he’d met his father. He’s gone to his home. He’ll be back.”
“I don’t feel so sure about that.”
“Well, I know he’d never go back to the old life, books and all that. He said he never would. He said he’d learned more about econ— What d’you call it?”
“Economics.”
“That’s it. He said he’d learned more through being with me than in four years’ work at books and lectures.”
“I should call that an exaggerated statement.”
“He’ll come back. I know he wouldn’t see me left.”
They met Martin rolling to his home. When they told him, he screwed a chuckle out of himself and squeezed his eyes up tight.
“Onsettled,” he said, “onsettled. I seen it a-coming on. Thinks I to myself, I thinks, when I sees him coming in in the morning: ‘Brewing up for trouble, you are, young man; but whether it’ll be Glory to God or Down with them as pays wages, or what, I don’t know.’ I was going to say he’d better have a holiday, and now he’s snoofed it.”