A few days later, meeting him again, she noticed that something troubled him. They had been much together since Edward left Chicago; they were both devoted to him and each in his desire to talk of the absent one found a willing listener; the consequence was that Isabel knew every expression of Bateman's face, and his denials now were useless against her keen instinct. Something told her that his harassed look had to do with Edward and she did not rest till she had made him confess. "The fact is," he said at last, "I heard in a round-about way that Edward was no longer working for Braunschmidt and Co., and yesterday I took the opportunity to ask Mr Braunschmidt himself." "Well?" "Edward left his employment with them nearly a year ago." "How strange he should have said nothing about it!" Bateman hesitated, but he had gone so far now that he was obliged to tell the rest. It made him feel dreadfully embarrassed. "He was fired." "In heaven's name what for?" "It appears they warned him once or twice, and at last they told him to get out. They say he was lazy and incompetent." "Edward?" They were silent for a while, and then he saw that Isabel was crying. Instinctively he seized her hand. "Oh, my dear, don't, don't," he said. "I can't bear to see it." She was so unstrung that she let her hand rest in his. He tried to console her. "It's incomprehensible, isn't it? It's so unlike Edward. I can't help feeling there must be some mistake." She did not say anything for a while, and when she spoke it was hesitatingly. "Has it struck you that there was anything queer in his letters lately?" she asked, looking away, her eyes all bright with tears. He did not quite know how to answer. "I have noticed a change in them," he admitted. "He seems to have lost that high seriousness which I admired so much in him. One would almost think that the things that matter--well, don't matter." Isabel did not reply. She was vaguely uneasy. "Perhaps in his answer to your letter he'll say when he's coming home. All we can do is to wait for that." Another letter came from Edward for each of them, and still he made no mention of his return; but when he wrote he could not have received Bateman's enquiry. The next mail would bring them an answer to that. The next mail came, and Bateman brought Isabel the letter he had just received; but the first glance of his face was enough to tell her that he was disconcerted. She read it through carefully and then, with slightly tightened lips, read it again. "It's a very strange letter," she said. "I don't quite understand it." "One might almost think that he was joshing me," said Bateman, flushing. "It reads like that, but it must be unintentional. That's so unlike Edward." "He says nothing about coming back." "If I weren't so confident of his love I should think.... I hardly know what I should think."