"Hurry erlong, chile, or yuh'll miss de train," warned Susan, watching them hastening across the campus before she went back to her work.
The professor, with discomfiture besetting him, had hurried on with Frances. It was altogether too cold and uncomfortable for talk. They caught a car, just made the train; he had scarce had time to think when he came slowly up the stair in the hillside to meet young Montague at the top.
"What are you going to do?" Edward asked after a second's silence.
"I suppose we'll get along somehow. Susan—"
"I meant now," said the young man with a short laugh; "there's scarce time to get out home," he added briskly. "Come, walk down town and we'll go to church after a while."
"Well!" the professor turned townward with a strange and unwonted distaste for the empty house back there facing the quadrangle. "You will come back out with me," he insisted, thinking of the loneliness.
The young man nodded his assent. Once there, however, if the loneliness did not so much oppress the professor it was like a weight to his guest.
The theories of agriculture and stock-raising had lost the flavor of their charm. They needed the bright face across the hearth sometimes listening in amusement, sometimes lost in dreamings, but always with the happy curve of the lip, the kindliness of her innocent eyes. He found himself listening for the sound of light footsteps in the hall or the tones of a low, musical voice. The place was haunted with memories. It was insupportable. As soon after dinner as he dared, he rose to go.
His host was plainly dismayed. "You are not going?"
The guest pleaded some excuse. Then as he saw the other's aimless distress, "Why don't you come out with me?"