Why? While the front of his mind was busy warning her not to fall into the hopeless miseries of underpaid teaching, and explaining his idea that for women of initiative, quite as much as for men, the world of business had by far the best chances, the back chambers of his brain were busy with the problem of that “Why?” His first idea as a man of the world was to explain her unrest by a lover, some secret or forbidden or impossible lover. While he was stirring his tea, she ran and fetched the comb. “Why—it’s—it’s you!” Amazement seemed to dry up the torrents of his speech. I have an appetite which I dare not increase. No doubt he knew enough of his world to recognise that he stood little chance against the word of a major of militia. Milky sunlight spilled on the floor.
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