“You—oh, no. It has nothing to do with you.” She spoke almost disdainfully.
“But where are you going?”
“Back to Ireland.”
“When?”
“To-day.”
Then, suddenly, in some curious manner, he knew. But he was clever enough, for once in his life, to restrain himself and say nothing.
“I will go this afternoon,” said she, as though she were talking of a journey of a few miles.
“Have you any friends to go to?”
Phyl thought of Mr. Hennessy sitting in his gloomy office in gloomy Dublin.
“Yes, one.”