She looked steadfastly away from him and tried to withdraw her arm.
“You are angry with me for coming,” she said. “I am very, very sorry; I will go away. Please don’t stop me.”
He held her wrist firmly.
“Miss Merton!”
“Miss Merton!” She repeated his words reproachfully, lifting her eyes suddenly to his, that he might see the tears gathering there. Wolfenden began to feel exceedingly uncomfortable.
“Well, Blanche, then,” he said slowly. “Is that better?”
She answered nothing, but looked at him again. Her hand remained in his. She suffered him to lead her back to the chair.
“It’s all nonsense your going away, you know,” he said a little awkwardly. “You can’t wonder that I am surprised. Perhaps you don’t know that it is a little late—after midnight, in fact. Where should you go to if you ran away like that? Do you know any one in London?”
“I—don’t think so,” she admitted.