"I need him," she sobbingly acknowledged. "Yes—yes, I always cared for him. But he'd never understand. He'd never forgive me. He's grown away from me."
"He's waiting for you," I said.
I stood looking at the bowed figure for a moment. Then I slipped out of the room.
I stepped in through my own door and closed it after me. Young Mallory, with his watch in his hand, swung about from the window and faced me.
"Well, it's ten o'clock—and nothing's settled!"
"It is settled," was my answer.
I led him across the quiet hall to the half-lit back room.
I saw his startled and groping motion. Then I heard his cry of "Harrie!" and her answering cry of "Jamie" as the white face, with its hunger and its happiness, looked up into his.
Then I quietly stepped outside and closed the door, leaving them alone. From that moment I was an outsider, an intruder. My part was over and done. But the sight of those two young people, in each other's arms, made my thoughts turn back to Mary Lockwood and the happiness which had been lost out of my own life. And I didn't sleep so well that night as I had hoped to.