Again the force of Contrast, I supposed.
Well! Well, if the Man-hater were drawn to him I could only hope it was for her happiness. She didn't look happy at the moment, sitting there on that wall, her chin on her knees and her hands hugging her gaitered legs.
"To think," she mourned, "that at last I've met the sort of man that I could care for—even I who never do care for them!—and that it's no good!'
"Why 'no good,' my dear? Because we're going away? But he's not going to stay in Careg himself for ever! Besides, he'll write to you. He always did about the flat, and he will more now," I comforted her. "I know he likes you."
With her characteristic gesture my chum shook her head till her hair danced about her face.
"He does like you," I persisted. "I saw it when he met you first! And at the concert he threw that red carnation straight for you to catch! I suppose you've kept it?"
A rueful laugh from Elizabeth, a movement of her hand to the breast of her smock. Kept it? It was her treasure. Oh, yes. She'd got it badly.
"Besides," I went on, "he met you. He came to talk to you. He wanted to see you——"
"He used to! But not now!" broke despairingly from the little figure on the wall. "That's the worst of it! To begin with, he—he did like me! I was almost sure of it! But not since that girl came down here to take him from me!"
"Which girl?"