And then it came over him that he had no right even to be dejected and alarmed at Charity's departure. Charity felt in the sudden relaxing of his handclasp some such sudden check. She smiled patiently and went to tell Kedzie good night.
Kedzie broke out, “Oh, don't go—yet!” then caught herself. She also for quite a different reason must not regret Charity's departure. Charity smiled a smile of terrifying comprehension, shook her head, and went her ways.
And now Jim, released, wandered over and sat down by Kedzie just as she was telling Strathdene the most important things.
She could not shake Jim. He would not talk to anybody else. She wished that Charity had taken Jim with her. Strathdene was as comfortable as a spy while Jim talked. Jim seemed so suspiciously amiable that Strathdene wondered how much he knew.
Jim did not look like the sort of man who would know and be complacent, but even if he were ignorant Strathdene was too outright a creature to relish the necessity for casual chatter with the husband of his sweetheart.
He, too, made a resolution to take the first boat available. He would rather see a submarine than be one.
Strathdene also suddenly bolted, saying: “Sorry, but I've got to run myself into the hangar. My doctor says I'm not to do any night flying.”
And now Kedzie was marooned with Jim. She was in a panic about Strathdene; a fantastic jealousy assailed her. To the clandestine all things are clandestine! What if he were hurrying away to meet Charity? Charity returned to Kedzie's black books, and Jim joined her there.
“Let's go home,” said Kedzie, in the least honeymoony of tones.
Jim said, “All right, but why the sudden vinegar?”