Part 12 (2/2)
”I'm not particularly surprised,” he commented at last, ”that is, not surprised that you're going to quit me. It was merely a question of time until this place we're living in here got too small for you. When will you go?”
”The lease gives them a month to deliver.”
”A month. All right.” There was frost forming in the tone. ”I'll try and la.s.soo another mate in that time. The place isn't particularly pretentious, but, nevertheless, I can't afford to inhabit it alone.” He smiled, but it was not his customary companionable smile. ”You're on the incline and trudging up steadily, aren't you, old man?”
For an instant Roberts returned the look with the a.n.a.lytic one Armstrong knew so well.
”I trust so,” he returned. A pause, again sufficient for second thought.
”Looking into the immediate future I see a lot of grinding to be done, and I need machinery to do it with. This down town move is merely part of the campaign.”
”I see,” Armstrong ignored the explanation, even perverted it intentionally. ”And the next installation of machinery will be in stone out on n.o.b Hill among the other imitation colonial factories. When's that to be, if I may ask?”
Roberts said nothing.
”When's it to be, Darley?” repeated Armstrong. ”You have it in mind, haven't you?”
This time Roberts turned, his eyes unsmiling, his lips tight.
”When have I offended you, and how, Armstrong?” he countered directly.
”Tell me that.”
”Offended!” Roused out of his ill humor Armstrong flushed penitently.
”You've never offended, never. On the contrary, you're only too patient with my tantrums.” He jerked himself together impulsively. ”I didn't mean anything by that at all. I'm blooming glad to see you prosper. I always knew you would.”
”The imitation colonial--factory then--” Roberts recalled slowly.
”Just a dream, a fancy, an air castle.”
”No, a reality--I hope.”
”What?--a miracle! But how about the tape line?”
”I repeat: I hope. Hope always refers to the future--the indefinite future.”
Armstrong smiled broadly, shrugged. Banter tingled on the tip of his tongue, but for some reason remained unspoken. Abruptly as it had arisen the subject vanished beneath the surface. Merely the memory of that suggestion of things to come remained.
In the silence Roberts glanced at the clock and arose preparatory to bed.
Watching the familiar action, a new thought sprang full-fledged to Armstrong's brain, a sudden appreciation of the unconscious dependence he had grown to feel on the other man. The thought took words.
”On the square, old man,” he said soberly, ”I hate to have you go. It'll be beastly lonely here without you to sit down on me and make me feel foolish.” He gestured in mute eloquence. ”It means the end between you and me the moment you pack your trunk. We may both put up a bluff--but just the same it's the end.”
Roberts halted thoughtfully where he stood.
”The end? I wonder--and who will be to blame?”
”Neither of us,” swiftly. ”It was inevitable. We'll simply drift apart.
<script>