“He should have understood that I had some good reason for planning matters just as I did or I should not have done it.”
“Do you regret being alone with me?”
Helen struggled to keep the tears out of her voice.
“Don’t be absurd, Helen,” replied Armstrong, impatiently. “That is not the point at all. Miss Thayer is tired and needed this relaxation. Mr. Cartwright had no right to interfere.”
There was a long silence, during which Armstrong relapsed into a profound taciturnity, while Helen found it hard to know what tack to take. She glanced occasionally at her husband, but could gain no inspiration from his grim, set features.
“Tell me, Jack,” she said, at length, “is it not possible for you to pursue your work at the library without having it make you so indifferent to everything else?”
He shifted his position uneasily. “I am not indifferent to everything else. The fact that I proposed this ride is an evidence of that.”
“Has something happened to make my companionship distasteful to you?”
Armstrong became more and more irritated. “I don’t see why you are so possessed to make me uncomfortable, Helen. But I understand what you are driving at.”
“What am I driving at?” she asked, quietly.