"I'm glad you came," she said. She drew him into the parlor.
"It's been a bad morning."
"I heard about the accident," she said. She detached herself from him and sat down on the sofa, crossing her long legs and smoothing her skirt over them. "Is there anything anyone can do?"
"Not for the dead men."
Her eyes touched him warily. She said, "For you then? You ought to get your mind off it."
"No," he said. "I ought to think about it. I ought to think a great deal about it."
She nodded slowly, frowning. He seized the back of a chair and leaned over it moodily. After a moment, she said, "I've been wishing all morning you'd drop by. Jack, it's such a beautiful day. Could we—I suppose it isn't a good idea, but couldn't we pack a lunch and have a picnic? I know a spot where there's a creek and a little waterfall. We'd be a million miles away from everything."
"It sounds fine," he said.
"We'll have to sort of sneak away," she said. "I wouldn't want Sam to know. He'd want to come, too, I'm afraid."