But what she was noticing was the flagging effort of his vivacity. Her
half-submerged first impression of him was coming to the surface: he did
look unusually haggard. "You haven't been good while I was away. Now don't
tell stories. Don't I know you? No more storms, Guy!" she warned.
His eye evaded hers. "I am seriously questioning whether you ought to make
this change. All your friends are here."
"Oh, as to that! There might be advantages in working among strangers. Mrs.
Grey fairly puts herself out to let me understand that she is a friend in
need!" She reined herself up, recollecting, but too late. "Oh, Guy, don't
mind so for me. Why, the South is full of women doing what I am, only so
many of them are doing it--without--the Guys who never came back!"
"Lucky dogs!" subterraneously. Then, seeing her apprehensive of a second
flare-up of that volcanic fire: "So gentlemanly of them, too, Bibi. How can
those few years of love be worth a life of this to you?"
"Those few years? why, Guy! of love? Is that how _you_ feel?" Her eyes
filled; her whole face quivered. "Oh, Guy--be willing for my sake.
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