“She’s comfortably provided for, of course,” she commented rather than inquired.
“Everything she wants. Jennie is of a peculiar disposition. She doesn’t want much. She’s retiring by nature and doesn’t care for show. I’ve taken a cottage for her at Sandwood, a little place north of here on the lake; and there’s plenty of money in trust, but, of course, she knows she can live anywhere she pleases.”
“I understand exactly how she feels, Lester. I know how you feel. She is going to suffer very keenly for a while—we all do when we have to give up the thing we love. But we can get over it, and we do. At least, we can live. She will. It will go hard at first, but after a while she will see how it is, and she won’t feel any the worse toward you.”
“Jennie will never reproach me, I know that,” he replied. “I’m the one who will do the reproaching. I’ll be abusing myself for some time. The trouble is with my particular turn of mind. I can’t tell, for the life of me, how much of this disturbing feeling of mine is habit—the condition that I’m accustomed to—and how much is sympathy. I sometimes think I’m the the most pointless individual in the world. I think too much.”
“Poor Lester!” she said tenderly. “Well, I understand for one. You’re lonely living where you are, aren’t you?”
“I am that,” he replied.
“Why not come and spend a few days down at West Baden? I’m going there.”
“When?” he inquired.
“Next Tuesday.”
“Let me see,” he replied. “I’m not sure that I can.” He consulted his notebook. “I could come Thursday, for a few days.”