"Don needs me," she said. "He would be frantic here alone. I cannot desert him."
"Nor I," said Kenny. "But the year of waiting ends at Samhain."
"Yes," said Joan, coloring. "I have given Don the money," she added. "If now he would only study!"
"He shall!" said Kenny and set himself to the finishing of Brian's winter task. That sacrifice, at least, he decided, nagging Don into hours of study that were a godsend to them both, should not become an anticlimax. He had paid once—in ragged money. For Joan's sake he would pay willingly again in time. Brian and Joan and Don—and he himself, with indolence for once in his life unwelcome, would be happier for the effort. But there were moments of clash and irritation when Don's energy flagged and he flung his books aside in black disgust.
"No use," he said moodily. "I can't work. I've got too much on my mind."
Kenny merely looked at him.
Don flushed.
"Mr. O'Neill," he barked.
"Shut up!" thundered Kenny, "I don't propose to quarrel now or at any other time."
They glared at each other in nervous indignation.