I was so greatly disinclined to stir that I let Sebright’s voice go on calling my name half a dozen times from the cabin door. At last I faced about.
“Mr. Kemp! I say, Kemp! Aren’t you coming in yet?”
“To say good-by,” I said, approaching him.
It had fallen dark already.
“Good-by? No. The carpenter must have a day at least.”
Carpenter! What had a carpenter to do in this? However, nothing mattered—as though I had managed to spoil the whole scheme of creation.
“You didn’t think of making a start to-night, did you?” Sebright wondered. “Where would be the sense of it?”
“Sense,” I answered contemptuously. “There is no sense in anything. There is necessity. Necessity.”
He remained silent for a time, peering at me.
“Necessity, to be sure,” he said slowly. “And I don’t see why you should be angry at it.”