"Never mind," Jenny consoled him. "Think how lovely it will be when we do see each other."
"Good-bye," said Maurice bluntly.
"Oh, what an unnatural way to say good-bye."
"Well, I've got to pack up and catch the 6.30 down to Claybridge. I'll write to you."
"You needn't trouble," she told him, chilled by his manner.
"Don't be foolish, I must write. Good-bye, Jenny."
He seemed to offer his embrace more from habit than desire.
"I've got to change first," she said, making no movement towards the enclosure of his arms. It struck them both that they had passed through a thousand emotions, he in the sculptor's blouse of his affectation, she in her tarlatan skirt.
"It's like a short story by de Maupassant," said Maurice.
"Is it? You and your likes! I'm like a soppy girl."