'
'But, excuse me--you don't earn your own living really?'
'No, that isn't really necessary. But I don't want to live at home.'
Her face showed such a decided distaste to the idea that he said no
more.
'You're looking very well today,' Dulcie said.
He sighed. 'I feel rather rotten. I can't read, can't settle to
anything.'
She looked at him sympathetically. He felt impelled to go on.
'I'm a bit worried,' he continued.
'About your son?'
'No, not about him so much, though I wish he would get a flesh wound and
be sent back,' his father said, laughing. 'But about myself.'
She looked at him in silence.
'You know--what I told you.'
She made no answer, looking away to give him time to speak.
'I've made a suggestion,' he said slowly.... 'If it's accepted it'll
alter all my life. Of course I shall go out again. But still it will
alter my life.'
Suddenly, overpowered by the longing for sympathy, he said to himself
aloud.
'I wonder if there's a chance.'
'I don't know what it is,' she murmured, but instinctively she had
guessed something of it.
'I don't want to think about it any more at present.'
'Shall I read to you?'
'Yes, do.
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