l the bruise--in our
business of picking up straws. Our view of the improved acquaintance was
only a straw, but as I stooped to it I felt my head bump with my
neighbour's. This might have made me ashamed of my eagerness, but, oddly
enough, that effect was not to come. I felt in fact that, since we had
even pulled against each other at the straw, I carried off, in turning
away, the larger piece.

X

It was in the moment of turning away that I somehow learned, without
looking, that Mrs. Brissenden had also immediately moved. I wanted to
look and yet had my reasons for not appearing to do it too quickly; in
spite of which I found my friends, even after an interval, still
distinguishable as separating for the avoidance of comment. Gilbert
Long, rising directly after his associate, had already walked away, but
this associate, lingering where she stood and meeting me with it,
availed herself of the occasion to show that she wished to speak to me.
Such was the idea she threw out on my forthwith going to her. "For a few
minutes--presently."

"Do you mean alone? Shall I come with you?"

She hesitated long enough for me to judge her as a trifle surprised at
my being so ready--as if indeed she had rather hoped I wouldn't be;
which would have been an easy pretext to her to gain time. In fact, with
a face not quite like the brave face she had at each step hitherto shown
me, yet unlike in a fashion I should certainly not have been able to
define on the spot; with an expression, in short, that struck me as
taking refuge in a general reminder that not my convenience, but her
own, was in question, she replied: "Oh, no--but before it's too late. A
few minutes hence. Where shall you be?" she asked with a shade, as I
imagined, of awkwardness. She had looked about as for symptoms of
acceptance of the evening's end on the part of the ladies, but we could
both see our hostess otherwise occupied. "We don't go up quite yet. In
the morning," she added as with an afterthought, "I suppose you leave
early."

I debated. "I haven't thought. And you?"

She looked at me straighter now. "I haven't thought either." Then she
was silent, neither turning away nor coming to the point, as it seemed
to me she might have done, of telling me what she had in her head. I
even fancied that her momentary silence, combined with the way she faced
me--as if that might speak for her--was meant for an assurance that,
whatever train she should take in the