CHAPTER XVIII—THE WORM CONSIDERS LOVE
ZANIN came in quietly, for him; matter of fact; dropped his hat on the couch; stood with his hands in his pockets and looked down at Sue who was filling her alcohol lamp.
“Well, Sue,” said he, “it's Saturday at four. I've kept my part of the agreement. You haven't had a word from me. But”—and he did show feeling here—“you are not to think that it has been easy. We've talked like sensible people, you and I, but I'm not sensible.” Still she bent over the lamp. “So you'd better tell me. Are we starting off together to-night?”
“Don't ask me now,” she said.
“Oh, come, Sue. Now, really!”
She straightened up. “I'm not playing with you, Jacob. I promised to answer you to-day.”
“Well—why don't you? Now. Why wait?”
“Because I don't know yet.”
“But good God, Sue! If you don't know yet—”
She threw out her hands.