"The machinery broke down on me," said Varney, turning away to light a cigarette.
"Sure," said Peter cheerfully. "You knew it was going to do it when you started. I read it in your eye when we said farewell forever."
"You are quite mistaken," said Varney. "Ask Ferguson."
"Oh! Then you'll do it to-morrow morning, when the machinery is all right again?"
"No," said Varney, "nor at any other time."
The two men looked at each other steadily, unwinkingly. As the look lengthened, each face gave way to a slow reluctant smile.
"I won't pretend," said Peter, "that I am disappointed in you. I never dreamed that I hated this thing till the time came, and hang me if I don't rather like that little girl."
"It was a thing," said Varney, "that simply couldn't be done. We were a pair of asses not to see that all along." He glanced hurriedly at his watch and started for the companionway. "Jove! I'll have to hustle."
"Hustle! Where the devil to?"
"I'm off to New York by the five o'clock train to tell Uncle Elbert that
I've resigned. I'll feel mighty mean doing it, too."