"Don't you like that?" he asked anxiously. "Why shouldn't they sew?"
"But why should they—just because they're women?" I asked in answer, and after a moment he began to see light.
"Of course if you prefer having them write novels, model in clay and illumine parchments we'll add those departments," he declared, with a generous air. "We're determined to have everything that an altruistic age has thrust upon the manufacturer to reduce his net income."
"And—occasionally—you'll be coming back to Oldburgh to see that the gardens grow silver bells and cockle shells and pretty maids all in a row?" I suggested, but after a momentary smile his face sobered.
"I don't know! There are things—in England—that complicate any arrangements, I mean business arrangements, I might wish to make just now."
"And Loomis will have to get along without you?"
I had put the question idly, with no ulterior motive in the world, but he leaned forward until the arm of his revolving chair scraped against my chair.
"Loomis can get along without me," he said, in a low tone, "and therefore must—but if I should find that I am needed—wanted here in Oldburgh—"
The shriek of the city-bound trolley-car broke in at that instant upon the quiet of the room, interrupting his slow tense words; and I sprang up and crossed to the window, for I felt suddenly a wild distaste to having Maitland Tait say important things to me then and there! Something in me demanded the most beautiful setting the world could afford for what he was going to say!
"I ought—I ought to catch that car!"