But she did not finish her timorous question. She caught the contagion of the fire in her husband’s eyes and sealed her lips. And he, stooping, kissed those lips as he used to kiss them before the boy came.
The next morning Carter drank his coffee black, and when Kitty brought on the war doughnuts he shoved them aside.
“Don’t make any more,” he said. “Cut ’em out altogether. That’s the trick.”
And when on the eight-ten Newell came round with a recipe for making frosting without sugar, Carter refused to listen.
“Look here, Newell,” he protested, “those confounded things don’t interest me.”
“They don’t?” returned Newell ominously.
“Not a little bit,” Carter continued calmly.
“You mean to tell me you aren’t interested in conservation?”
“Did I say that?”
“Well, it amounts to the same thing, doesn’t it?”