“Yes, mother.”
“I see.” But she did not see very clearly, as her next remark betokened. “Have you packed your clean things?”
For some human reason Wynne had no inclination to smile at this. It struck him as being somewhat pathetic.
“I think so,” he replied.
“That’s right. Did you ask cook to cut you some sandwiches?”
“No, mother. I—I don’t think you quite understand. I’m not going away just for the day—I’m going for good.”
“For good!” repeated Mrs. Rendall, in an expressionless voice. “Really? Yes, well that does seem a pity. Your father had a nice opening for you with Mr. Kessles.”
“I don’t think I should have flourished in an office, mother. I want to do and do and do.”
“You might have gone to the office in the day-time and done a little writing in the evening. I am sure your father wouldn’t have objected to that.”
Wynne shook his head. “Wouldn’t work,” he said.