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It doesn't seem possible that it can keep on going with you not
there."
The sincerity of that made it a really fine compliment--just the sort
of compliment he'd appreciate. But--the old perversity again--the very
freedom with which she said it spoiled it for him.
"I may be missed," he said--it was more of a growl really--"but I shan't
be regretted. There's always a sort of Hallelujah chorus set up by the
company when they realize I'm gone."
"I shall regret it very much," said Rose. The words would have set his
blood on fire if she'd just faltered over them. But she didn't. She was
hopelessly serene about it. "You're the person who's made this six weeks
bearable and, in a way, wonderful. I never could thank you enough for
the things you've done for me, though I hope I may try to some time."
"I don't want any thanks," he said. And this was completely true. It was
something very different from gratitude that he wanted. But he realized
how abominably ungracious his words sounded, and hastened to amend them.


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