"Promise?"
"If you won't come earlier."
"Oh, what a week of suspense it will be!" she moaned.
"Come along, Bulich. Vandervelt's getting restless," called Glocken.
"I'll go, Jack." It was no more than a whisper, but it meant so much. Of her own dear will she kissed me again and again with more passion than she had ever shown, and then made a desperate effort for composure. "What an end to our picnic, Jack!" she said, trying to smile. A brave effort, but a failure; and she began to tremble again, closing her eyes and clenching her hands tightly under the searching strain of it, and turned away.
For a full minute she stood in this tense silence, until Glocken called again. The sound of his voice roused her, and when she faced me again, she had regained self-control.
"I'm ready, Jack," she said steadily.
I pushed some notes into her pocket.
"What's that?"
"Money. You must have it, dearest," I said, as she seemed about to protest. "And now, good-bye, for a day or two."