It was the first time she had ever shaken hands with him.
"Good-bye," he said gently. "Good luck to you."
"Good-bye," she answered.
He went up the stairs, and turned round as though he wished to say something more. But he changed his mind, and kept his own counsel.
An hour later Bernardine left Petershof. Only the concierge of the
Kurhaus saw her off at the station.
CHAPTER XX.
A LOVE-LETTER.
TWO days after Bernardine had left Petershof, the snows began to melt. Nothing could be drearier than that process: nothing more desolate than the outlook.
The Disagreeable Man sat in his bedroom trying to read Carpenter's Anatomy. It failed to hold him. Then he looked out of the window, and listened to the dripping of the icicles. At last he took a pen, and wrote as follows: