Mr. Elvey might have answered, "Nor anybody else," but did not.
"Well, you have both had time for consideration, and you have time still, for the matter of that. No need to decide yet."
"I would rather work through college with a definite aim."
A movement of assent answered him. "You know, of course, that Malcolm is ordained to the curacy of St. Peter's."
"Yes. Capital for you all having him within reach."
Nigel could hardly take his eyes off Ethel. He knew that it was time for him to say good-bye; yet he lingered, craving a few words with her first. Mr. Elvey soon turned to speak to his wife, and Nigel seized the opportunity, moving to Ethel's side.
"I must not stay; they will be expecting me at home, and wondering why I don't come," he said. "It's desperately hard to go so soon, but if I don't—"
"Yes. Oh, don't wait," she said at once; "we shall see you again very soon."
Nigel's face changed. He had not expected this. Was she so indifferent?
"I'm afraid I must," he repeated; yet he did not stir. Ethel's presence was like a fascination, holding him to the spot against his will, or rather enchaining his very will, so that for the time nothing else seemed to have weight. "I can't tell you what it is to me to come back again—here," he said softly. "It is like—"