I to do with Howard and
that lot--with girls like Connie Edwards?"

"--and me," she added, smiling to herself.

"Or you with them?"

"Oh, they're my friends. As you say, they're not going anywhere--just
dawdling along and picking up things by the wayside--queer, interesting
things----"

"I've no use for them," he said doggedly.

"--And Christine wanted to go." She added after a moment, gently, as
though she were feeling through the dark, "--is dying to go, Robert."

"You're just imagining it. She's never cared for things like
that--only for my getting ahead with my work--my finals."

"Didn't you hear her ask about the trees?"

He looked back over his shoulder like a suddenly frightened child.

"Yes. It--it didn't mean anything, though. It was just for something
to say."

"She said a great deal more than she meant to."

"We've mapped out everything--every ha'penny--every minute."

"Let me help, Robert. I've got such a lot. I've no one else. I could
make it easier for you both. I should be happier, too. And you could
pay me back afterwards with interest--a hundred per cent.--I don't care
what."

But now feeling through the dark she had reached the barrier. He
answered stonily.

"Thanks. We've never owed anything. We shan't begin now."

She slipped into her coat. She tugged her soft hat down over her hair.
There was more than anger in her quick, impatient movements. She was
going because she couldn't bear it any more. She had given in. She
would never come back. And at that fear he broke out with a desperate
cunning.

"It's too bad to be angry with me. I--I want to go."

"And I've asked you----?

"Because you want me?"

"Of course. It will be the first chance we've had to really talk----"

"It can't matter--just for once," he pleaded with himself.

"It might matter a great deal."

She went on down the stairs, very slowly, lingeringly. He leant over
the creaking banisters, trying to see her.

"Francey--you duffer--you haven't even told me where to meet you."

"Paddington--the Booking Office--10.15."

He held his breath. Her voice had sounded like that of a spirit
laughing out of the black veil beneath. It did not come again. He
could not even hear her footsteps. She had vanished. But he waited,
trembling before the wonder of his own impulse.

Supposing he had yielded--had taken her hands and kissed them--kissed
that pale, beloved face, he who had never kissed anyo