She went back to Harry's study and sitting at his writing-table, composed with great care a letter of many pages. The hours passed as she wrote and rewrote, and glancing at the clock before the end was reached, she saw that it was already past eleven. Then she hurried. The division at this moment was being taken. Within the hour Harry would have returned; and indeed she had only just folded her letter in its envelope when his step sounded in the hall.
She heard the door open and shut. He was in the room. But she kept her head bowed over her letter lest her face should betray her over much. Nor for a moment did she speak, since she did not quite trust her voice. It was Harry who spoke first.
"You have come back? I did not expect you so soon."
"I never went. I stayed at home."
"Oh! You are not ill, Cynthia?"
"No. But I felt that I had been rather hard and cruel----"
"You?"
"Oh, yes, I can be." Cynthia was stamping down her envelope with an elaboration of care which almost suggested that it was never meant to be opened. "I was in this case. So I stayed at home and wrote a letter to make amends. I should very much like it to be posted to-night, Harry. The servants have all gone to bed. I wonder if you----"
"Of course. You are afraid that you might change your mind about it in the morning."
"Not at all," replied Cynthia with a laugh. Harry Rames walked over to the table.