“Permanently, you mean?”
“No; for a time—until Harry got on his feet.”
“He’ll never get on his feet unaided. Instead he’ll get more and more wobbly all the time. The past proves the future. He’s proved it.”
“You’re simply horrid.” There were real tears in the girl’s eyes now, not a mere premonition. “I’m sorry I ever told you anything about them.”
“I know I’m horrid, grant it. A friend I 180 once had told me I was a fish,—cold-blooded like one. Nature made me that way, you see, so I can’t help it. And still I’m inclined to believe if Mrs. Randall had chanced to select any other lawyer in town there’d be a real separation, instead of one in prospect, right now.”
Elice Gleason looked up penitently.
“I’m sorry,” she said simply. “I didn’t mean that.”
“I don’t doubt it,” equally simply.
“You’re so blunt and logical though; so—abstract.”
“Yes; I am that way.”