"It was fascinating." There was pain in the folding down of her long eyelids. "But I can't go away. I—" she smiled briefly. "I've lost my nerve. I can't risk what might happen."
"The children, you mean?"
"Yes."
"Um. A pity. Accidents happen, anyway. But of course you have thought of that." He drummed busily with his fingers along the desk.
Catherine straightened her shoulders. She could think clearly now; evidently the jellyfish had existed just for that one decision.
"I had hoped there wouldn't be a chance for me to go away again. I thought you might have sent someone else, and that you'd want me here in the office. You see—the glimpse I had of the real colleges gives enormous vitality to all these catalogues. I'd like to go on, if I could do it right here."
When had she thought that? Astonishing, the way ideas burst out from some deep level, and you recognized them as authentic.
"A pity." Dr. Roberts clasped his hands, twisting his fingers in and out. Here's the church, and here's the steeple, thought Catherine, as if she played the finger game for Letty. "I was afraid of it. But if you will come back, handle the work here—I like the way you write up the material." He clapped one palm on the desk. "Let me think it over. I suppose I might finish the trip myself. I am free now—those meetings have come off."
"There's this check." Catherine took it out of her handbag. "For a month, at the new rate."
"I think that will be satisfactory. It's gone into the budget, your salary, I mean. I don't think the President will suggest cutting it. Not if I make the trip myself. Let me think it over. No, the check is yours."