"The go is there." Paul looked up and laughed.
"We've both got plenty of life in us yet to make things fly," he said.
The eyes of the two men met.

They exchanged one look.

Having recognised the stress of passion each in the other, they both drank their whisky.
"Yes, begod!" said Dawes, breathless.
There was a pause.
"And I don't see," said Paul, "why you shouldn't go on where you left off." "What--" said Dawes, suggestively.
"Yes--fit your old home together again." Dawes hid his face and shook his head.
"Couldn't be done," he said, and looked up with an ironic smile.
"Why?
Because you don't want ?" "Perhaps." They smoked in silence.

Dawes showed his teeth as he bit his pipe stem.
"You mean you don't want her ?" asked Paul.
Dawes stared up at the picture with a caustic expression on his face.
"I hardly know," he said.
The smoke floated softly up.
"I believe she wants you," said Paul.
"Do you ?" replied the other, soft, satirical, abstract.
"Yes.

She never really hitched on to me--you were always there in the background.