His long silences at last began to worry her. An invisible barrier had reared itself between them. The impression was purely mental—but it was none the less real and distressing.
There was a look of aloof absorption about him she had never seen before. At first she attributed it to the dread of meeting his kinsfolk for the first time, his fear of what they might be like or what they might think of him.
He answered her questions cheerfully but mechanically. Sometimes he stared at her in a cold, impersonal way and gave no answer, as if her questions were an impertinence and she were not of sufficient importance to waste his breath on.
Unable at last to endure the strain, she burst out impatiently:
“What on earth's the matter with you, Jim?”
“Why?” he asked softly.
“You haven't spoken to me in half an hour, and I've asked you two questions.”
“Just studying about something, Kiddo, something big. I'll tell you sometime, maybe—not now.”
Slowly a great fear began to shape itself in her heart. The real man behind those slumbering eyes she had never known. Who was he?