“Are you writing now?”
“Yes.”
“You are not on the lookout for Adam.”
“No. I will write and he shall search for me. Haven’t you heard of that bird in Africa, which if you hunt for him, you can not find, but if you stay at home, he will come to you?”
He had risen and stood in his usual uneasy fashion. “My congratulations to Dine.”
He lingered on the hearth-rug, then at the door with his hand upon the knob.
“Good night. I shall be busy for a week or two; do not expect to see me.”
“You will come when you can?”
“Certainly.” He went out and closed the door.