"Could you do it with me here? Wouldn't you—"
"Couldn't I!" Fox smiled again. "It adds a great deal to my peace of mind to have you in the same room with me, even when you aren't saying anything. And peace of mind, Sally, is—"
"Yes, I know," said Sally, interrupting. "Well, let's try it. You go to your desk and work and I'll sit here and rest. And when the spirit moves me I'll speak."
So Fox went to his desk and Sally watched him as he became more and more absorbed; and, as she watched, there came a light into her eyes which had not been there before. Still she said nothing; only leaned her head back against the chair and watched. Once he looked back at her and smiled. He almost caught that light—that look in her eyes, but Sally managed to quench it in time.
"Resting, Sally?" he asked.
She nodded and he turned back to his desk. The work did not seem difficult. Sally wondered, and in her wonder she forgot, for the moment.
"Couldn't I do that, Fox?"
"To be sure you could," he answered quickly, "if you only would. It isn't half as difficult as what you do at your office."
He had not looked around. Sally was glad of that, for she was blushing—at her own temerity, she told herself. Again there was silence in the room, except for the rustling of papers.
"Fox," said Sally, after five minutes of this, "what would you do with Charlie now? Would you send him back to college?"