“It is something for me, too, to feel that I have a friend close at hand.”
“Come,” he said, “they are turning out the lights here. You want to know about Wenham's property. Let me come upstairs with you for a little time and I will tell you as much as I can from memory.”
He paid the bill, helped her on with her cloak. His fingers seemed like burning spots upon her flesh. They went up in the lift. In the corridors he drew her to him and she began to tremble.
“What is there strange about you, Jerry?” she faltered, looking into his face. “You terrify me!”
“You are glad to see me? Say you are glad to see me?”
“Yes, I am glad,” she whispered.
Outside the door of her rooms, she hesitated.
“Perhaps,” she suggested, faintly,—“wouldn't it be better if you came to-morrow morning?”
Once more his fingers touched her and again that extraordinary sense of fear seemed to turn her blood cold.
“No,” he replied, “I have been put off long enough! You must let me in, you must talk with me for half an hour. I will go then, I promise. Half an hour! Elizabeth, haven't I waited an eternity for it?”