Jack “pulled himself together,” as he would have called it, and sat down beside her.
“No,” he said, “I will stay if I may.”
She turned to him with a gentle smile.
“No; go now, please. I am not ungrateful. It was very kind of you to come. You will not forget tomorrow?”
“No,” said Jack, fingering his crush hat. “I will not forget tomorrow—how could I?”
She held out her hand—not a tiny, meaningless one, but a long, shapely eloquent hand—and put it into his broad, strong one.
“Good-night!” she said, and her voice grew wondrously low and gentle in its caressing, clinging tones. “Good-night!”
Jack felt the slender fingers, warm through the thin gloves, cling round his fingers.
“Good-night,” she said, hurriedly. “Good-night.”