“This is mean luck,” he murmured, patting her. “This is mean luck.”
She went on: “I wanted to run out and find you; but I didn't! I didn't! I stayed quiet in my room till they said you had come back.”
“It is mean luck. Mighty mean,” he repeated.
“How could you be so long?” she asked. “Never mind, I've got you now. It is over.”
Anger and sorrow filled him. “I might have known some fool would tell you,” he said.
“It's all over. Never mind.” Her arms tightened their hold of him. Then she let him go. “What shall we do?” she said. “What now?”
“Now?” he answered. “Nothing now.”
She looked at him without understanding.
“I know it is a heap worse for you,” he pursued, speaking slowly. “I knew it would be.”
“But it is over!” she exclaimed again.