"I'm so proud of you!" she cried.
He hardly seemed to hear her.
"Think of it, just think of it—to be invited to go over there with five of the biggest architects here, American money backing us! We've been given a whole section to rebuild; I forget how many villages. It's like a dream." He passed his hand over his eyes.
"France!" she heard herself saying. "But, Oliver, it's the work of months."
He nodded happily.
"That's what it is."
"France!" she murmured in a kind of ecstasy. "I'm just getting it." She clasped her hands together. "I've always wanted to be in France with you. My dear, when do we start?"
He gave her a swift, bewildered look.
"Why, Myra, didn't you understand? I can't take you right away with me. Later, of course, you'll join me. It won't be long, a few months at most."
"I'm not to go when you go?"