"I don't know what's upsetting you," he said. "And you don't seem inclined to tell me. But if you're worrying about that divorce, you needn't. You'll get it all right. The—the thing'll be sent you in a week or a fortnight."
"Ranny," she said, "are you really doin' it?"
"Of course I'm doing it."
"I didn't know."
"Well—you might have known."
He was deaf to the terror in her voice.
"I'd have done it years ago if I'd had the money. It isn't my fault we've had to wait for it. It was hard luck on both of us."
He stopped to look at her, still, like some sick animal, meekly drinking, and still crying.
He waited till her cup was empty and took it from her.
"More?"