“Let me go! You’re hurting me!”
He loosened his hold so abruptly that she nearly fell down.
She began to hurry towards home, moving with the ugly, jerking gait peculiar to women who walk from the knees.
“Shall I see you to-morrow before I go?” His voice sounded oddly humble and crestfallen.
“I’ll come to the drawing-room for a minute—no one’s ever there in the mornings.”
“What time, Elsie? I ought to be off at nine.”
“Oh, before that some time, I expect. I say, you’ve got your key, haven’t you?”
A sharp misgiving assailed her as he began to fumble in his pockets.
“Yes, all right.” He put it into the lock.
Elsie, relieved, stood on tiptoe and put her arms round his neck. “Good-night, you dear,” she whispered. “Now don’t begin again. Open the door and go in first, and if the coast isn’t clear, just cough, and I’ll wait a bit. I’ll see you to-morrow.”