“Can you skate?” he asked; and she said: “Not on the ice—only on rollers.”
And he laughed and said: “You ought to learn—it is a fine exercise. I expect there will be some more to-night if it doesn’t snow.”
And deep and dim within her was the awful premonition of doom. All this small talk about skating and ice and snow brought the black cloud almost to the level of her eyes.
Then he said: “By the way, I’ve a bit of news for you.”
She did not remember whether she enquired, “What is it?” or just remained silent.
“Miss Trant and I are engaged to be married.”
“Is that all?” she said lightly. “I thought—oh, I thought—oh, well, congratulations!”
“I have accepted a post at Harvard University in the States, and Miss Trant and I are to be married very soon and take up our position there.”
“Still as your amanuensis?—she, I mean?”
“Yes—to a certain extent. Of course, I may have to employ a typist to do the heavy work.”