'Jane does what she likes. Dad and mother have begged and prayed her not to…. Besides, of course, even if he was all right, it's too soon….'
'Too soon? Ah, yes, of course. Poor Hobart, you mean. Quite. Much too soon…. A dreadful business, that. I don't blame her for trying to put it behind her, out of sight. But with a Sheeney. Well, chacun a son goût.' For David was tolerant, a live and let live man.
When Clare was gone, Jane said, 'Wake up, old man. You can talk now…. You and Clare are stupid about each other, by the way. You'll have to get over it some time. You're ill-mannered and she's a silly fool; but ill-mannered people and silly fools can rub along together, all right, if they try.'
'I don't mind Clare,' said Gideon, rousing himself. 'I wasn't thinking about her, to say the truth. I was thinking about something else…. I'm chucking the Fact, Jane.'
'How d'you mean, chucking the Fact' Jane lit a cigarette.
'What I say. I've resigned my job on it. I'm sick of it.'
'Oh, sick…. Every one's sick of work, naturally. It's what work is for…. Well, what are you doing next? Have you been offered a better job?'
'I've not been offered a job of any sort. And I shouldn't take it if I were—not at present. I'm sick of journalism.'
Jane took it calmly, lying back among the sofa cushions and smoking.
'I was afraid you were working up to this…. Of course, if you chuck the Fact you take away its last chance. It'll do a nose-dive now.'