"You? Oh, no. I'm going away on circuit to-morrow, though," he said, tidying away a litter of dirty plates from the only unoccupied table.
"When will you be back?"
Jack helped her to a cutlet as though he were serving out rations, sprinkled his own with salt, cut his roll in two, prospected for a clean glass and poured out some champagne, which he tasted cautiously, with a murmured, "'04 Bollinger! It's a crime to waste that on a ball!" For a man not naturally greedy, supper was very absorbing.
"I shall be away for a week or two," he explained, precipitately adding, "at least."
Barbara's eyes were on his face, but he had no attention to spare from the cutlet.
"Ring me up, when you come back, and suggest a night for dinner," she said.
"I shall have a good deal of work to do when I get back. I've been getting very slack lately. And dissipated; you've been making me keep too late hours."
Barbara sighed wearily.
"As if I 'made' you do anything! Will you be back before Easter?"
"Oh, yes."