“Eighteen months,” said Kent laconically. “The longest eighteen months I h I have ever lived.”
“Why?”
“Don't you think I have missed you?”
“So much as that?”
“Yes; so much as that.”
“My poor Kent!” said Clytie, troubled. “I wish I could do something for you.”
“Ah, es ist vorbei,” he said, puckering his brows, as he watched the rings he was making in the damask with an inverted wineglass. Then his forehead suddenly cleared, and he looked up with his frank laugh.
“You see I am just as much of a bear as ever. Instead of telling you what a delight it is to be with you again, I come to you complaining, and I ought to have every reason not to rail at fortune.”
“You are doing great things, I hear,” said Clytie. “Tell me about them.”
“Oh, they are neither great nor much worth telling. The opus is being translated into German, and part of it will be soon published by the University of Vienna.”