She gives the permission faintly, and with evident reluctance. She lifts her eyes, and makes a gesture towards the door.
"Oh, I am going," says Rylton bitterly. He goes a step or two away from her, and then pauses as if loath to leave her.
"You might at least shake hands with me," says he.
She hesitates—then lays a cold little hand in his. He too hesitates, then, stooping, presses his lips warmly, lingeringly to it.
In another moment he is gone.
Tita stands motionless, listening to his departing footsteps. For a while she struggles with herself, as if determined to overcome the strange emotion that is threatening to master her. Then she gives way, and, flinging herself into an armchair, breaks into a passion of tears.
Margaret, coming presently into the room, sees her, and going to her, kneels down beside the chair and takes her into her arms.
"Oh, Margaret!" cries Tita. "Oh, Meg! Meg! And I was so rude to you!
But to see him—to see him again——"
"My poor darling!" says Margaret, pressing the girl to her with infinite tenderness.