“Then,” said William, “all is over. I pop off.”
Jane stalked without a word into her bedroom. With a mist before his eyes William began to pack. After a few moments he tapped at her door.
“Jane.”
“Well?”
“I’m packing.”
“Indeed?”
“But I can’t find my spare mashie.”
“I don’t care.”
William returned to his packing. When it was finished, he stole to her door again. Already a faint stab of remorse was becoming blended with his just indignation.
“Jane.”