He caught hold of her hands and pulled her to her feet, drawing her towards him at the same time.
"Quietly, John," she said, "quietly."
"What, don't you want to give me a kiss?"
"I'll give you a kiss, but quietly. Poor old John!"
She kissed him lightly on the cheek.
"Now let me go! I—I'm tired."
"Well, you shall rest," he said good-naturedly, and let her go.
She sank back in her seat and watched him turn to the cheque again.
"It's salvation!" he repeated, and paid no heed to a sudden quick gasp of breath from her throat.
Even Caylesham would have allowed that he had no suspicion. But Christine sat a prey to vague forebodings. She felt as though the thing were not finished yet. The dead would not bury its dead.