‘Well—not very, I suppose. Rather. Not more than’s good for me. I shall get over it.... I’m so sleepy I don’t know what I’m saying. Don’t take any notice.’
‘I thought you weren’t happy——’ He stopped, overcome.
‘It’s all right, Martin. Don’t you worry. I laugh at myself. How I laugh at myself!’
‘Can’t you tell me what it’s about?’ he said gruffly.
‘I don’t believe I can.’
He turned away and leaned despondently against the porch.
The sky was glowing now through all its length and breadth, like the inside of a shell. The dew shimmered over the grass and the greyish roses reddened, yellowed on their bushes. The birds bedazed the air with wild crystalline urgent repetition.
‘You go in a day or two,’ he said at last.
‘Yes. And you?’
‘I join Roddy next week.’