Tea was served to them in a quiet parlour. It being their first meal together, their friendship should have grown fat. Instead, it lost weight steadily. They were ill at ease—both of them. To make things worse, Anthony began to feel that he was an impostor.
He walked with her to the village and sent his telegram. Later they dined together. They dared not go far away, and the landlord of a neighbouring inn was persuaded to serve eggs and bacon. This he did with an ill grace, and, that there might be no mistake about his annoyance, charged for it in the bill. Anthony paid the amount as if it were nothing, and Valerie French writhed….
Afterwards they strolled in the garden and sat upon the veranda. The hours which should have been so wonderful went by lack-lustre. Between the two a phantom barrier had been set up.
As ten o'clock was striking, Valerie was fetched.
When the summons came, they were in the garden, and she left Anthony without a word. Desperately sorry for her, miserably fearful for himself, he followed as far as the steps of the veranda….
Twenty-five minutes passed, perhaps half an hour. Then there was movement in the chamber. A door was opened. The lights, which had been low, were turned up.
A moment later Valerie appeared at the window, putting on her gloves.
As she came to the steps, Anthony rose out of the shadows.
"May I see you back to the village?" he said.
She just inclined her head.