He half rose, but Will sat up in a moment.
“Not yet, Jim,” he said, almost roughly. Then his tone changed in a way through which his mercurial disposition spoke. “Look here,” he went on, “whatever happens in the future, I’d like you to understand that all you’ve done for me in the past counts for something.”
“Then it’s real serious, lad?” Jim smiled back at him. But he failed to catch his eye. Then he, too, changed his manner, and there was a sudden coolness in it. “You needn’t recite,” he said. “Anything I’ve done has been a––a pleasure to me. Our ways have lain a bit apart for some months, but it makes no difference to my feelings, except to make me regret it. The fortunes of 21 war, eh? And a fair bit of grist is rolling into our separate mills. Honest grist. We’re good friends, lad––so let’s have it. It’s––it’s a woman?”
At the mention of the word, “woman,” Will seemed to utterly freeze up.
“Yes, it’s––a woman,” he said frigidly.
“Eve Marsham?”
“Yes.”
Jim sighed. He knew there were breakers ahead. Breakers which must be faced, and faced sternly.
“You love her?” There was a dryness in his throat.
“Yes. I––I can’t live without her. She is my whole world. She is more than that. God! How I love her!”