“Yes.” She returned her companion’s look steadily. “Father was not reappointed for the coming session. He’s over the age line. I supposed you knew.” 290
“No; I didn’t know before.” Without apparent reason Roberts stood up. The great hands were working again. A moment he stood there so, the big bushy head outlined distinctly against the starlit sky; with equal abruptness he returned to his seat.
“What a farce this is you and I are playing,” he said. “Do you really wish it to go on longer?”
The girl did not look at him, did not move.
“Farce?” she echoed.
The man gestured swiftly.
“Don’t do that, please,” he prevented. “You and I know each other entirely too well to pretend. I repeat, do you wish this travesty to go on indefinitely? If you do I accept, of course—but—do you?”
Instinctively, as on a former occasion, the girl drew her chair farther back on the porch, until her face was in the shadow. It was out of the shadow that she spoke.
“Prefer it to go on? Yes,” she said; “because I wish you to remain as you are now. But really wish it, no; because it’s unfair, wholly unfair.”
“Unfair to me?”