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The thing of all others that irritated Galbraith was the possession of a
divided mind. Just now, disappointed as he was, almost to the point of
pain, though he wouldn't acknowledge to himself that it went as far as
that, over the evident fact that his relation to the girl, in spite of
their partnership, was exactly what it had been from the beginning, he
was still aware that if he'd got the opening he wanted, had managed
another of those warm lithe hand-clasps with her, and had got the notion
across to her that he wanted her to make a friend of him and a
confidant, he'd be going away now, afterward, under the painful
misgiving that he was a bit of an old fool. The product of all this
irritation was, however, that he declined Rose's offer of a view of her
patterns rather bruskly.
"It was just curiosity, as I said. Go along your own way and don't worry
about me. You will be all right."
Rose couldn't feel much conviction behind this expression of
confidence, and she went away, as I have said, in a sort of panic.


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