"Fine experience," he said, "for any man that's free to go. Makes me wish I were younger and without obligations. Still I can enjoy the music at the swimming-pool with a free conscience; because I'm sending over all the money I can spare.… How did you reach the conclusion that you could go?"
"Could go?"
"Yes. Of course you've no complication in your life that should keep you from going. Well, I'm glad of that."
"It seems to me that if anyone is free to go, I am."
He smiled upon me, somewhat too playfully for my comfort, and shook his head slowly. "So Fulton and I were right about the year's probation. I'm delighted. How soon did you and Lucy find out that absence doesn't make the heart grow fonder?"
"Oh," I said, "it isn't that. What has that to do with it? There's a year to be got over, and fighting's the most agreeable and the quickest way I can think of just now."
My father looked disappointed.
"I hoped you had got over caring. And—you haven't?"
For a few moments I met his eyes. But only for a few moments. He didn't laugh. "I'm glad," he said simply.
I tried to explain exactly how I felt.