" "Is Mr. I keep on thinking of you. It is so difficult. The future? He dared not speculate upon that. The water was cold but she waded deeper. . “I am sorry,” he said slowly. She walked over to them still carrying the trousers in her hands, and stooped to examine them. Perhaps, after all, the others were right. Puffy blue curtains dressed every oakstained window. There is a tragedy to come. Again he rushed. He leaned back in a low chair, and watched her graceful movements, the play of her white hands as she bent over some wonderful machine. So far she had not heard the sound of his voice.
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