It was not very easy from there, but Kathleen set her teeth, and walked it, leaning on Phil's arm, and sometimes stopping to rest.
"And I thought it was such a small island," she said with a little sighing laugh when at last the home piazza was reached.
Philip helped her upstairs to her room.
"Shall I knock on your mother's door?" he asked.
"No, indeed. I can get on perfectly well now." She held out her hand. "Will you forgive me?"
He took it and looked straight into her eyes without speaking.
For an instant he held her hand, still mute, then turned, and instead of going to his room went downstairs again.
Kathleen, closing her door softly, heard him. She stood a moment perfectly still, her lambent eyes looking into space, the long straight lines of her white coat shining in the dim room.
"If it should be!" she thought with awe. "If it should be!"