He breathed a sigh which she flattered herself was relief. Two weeks later the theatre closed. The days were hot and dry. Bob was tired, and determined not to be worried about Trent, who was working to the limit of his endurance. When he came into her room the Sunday morning after her closing, she was shocked by him.
"Well, Saint Francis, you look as if you had fasted forty days and forty nights."
"I feel it—I'm all in."
"I am going to leave you to-morrow."
"What?"
"I hate to think of you dying alone—better come along."
"Where?"
"I don't know. I'd like to go to some perfectly new place."
"So would I. Is there such a thing?"
"I'd like to rough it. Camp, skies for roof, all that kind of differentness."