“I’m sorry, old boy. But you do explain things so badly, you know. You had coffee at the inn, yes––and then–––”
“I went outside to start up the engine, and when I 220 came back she seemed to have utterly changed. She even looked different and she hardly spoke all the way home.”
“It must be your imagination.”
He shook his head.
“No, it isn’t; and when we got home she went indoors without even saying good-bye––confound her!” he added in savage parenthesis.
“Oh, Micky!” said June reproachfully.
He coloured.
“I didn’t mean that, but I’m so fed-up with everything–––” He leaned his elbow on the side of the car and looked away from her down the road. “I think I’ll get back to town this afternoon,” he said after a moment. “I was a fool to come at all.”
June looked at him silently.
“Well, what are you thinking?” he asked.