"You have not been to see us lately," he said. "I hope what you said when we last met is not final. I—I should be sorry if the neighborly relations which I had hoped were established came to an end."
"I have been nowhere," I replied. "The weather has been very wet lately, and I have scarcely ventured out of doors."
"You must be very lonely here."
"Life is not very gay," I said. "It can scarcely be."
"I suppose friends come to see you?"
"Yes, a friend came down last week and spent three days with me," I replied, wondering what was in the man's mind.
"The newspapers do not bring us very good tidings."
"No, I am afraid we shall have a great deal of bad tidings before the good comes."
After that there was an awkward silence for some time.
"I am a lonely man myself," he went on. "Of course I have my business, and my public work, but I should be very glad if you would come up to see us sometimes. If you would let me know when you would come, I'd always send a car for you."