She withdrew the hand.
But one more minute was left. ‘Better get out, sir,’ said the guard, ‘and I’ll lock the lady in.’
Gladys felt a shiver pass through her entire frame. With a supreme effort she controlled herself. They kissed and clasped hands. Then Alfred stepped down heavily on to the platform.
The minute was a long one; these minutes always are. It was an age in passing, a flash to look back upon. These minutes are among the strangest accomplishments of the sorcerer Time.
‘It is dreadful to let you go alone, darling, like this,’ he said, standing on the foot-board and leaning in. ‘At least you ought to have had Bunn with you. You might have given way in that, Gladdie.’
‘No,’ she whispered tremulously; ‘I—I like going alone.’
‘You must write at once, Gladdie.’
‘To-morrow; but you could only get it latish on Monday.’
The bell was ringing. You know the clangour of a station bell; of all sounds the last that it resembles is that of the funeral knell; yet this was its echo in the heart of Gladys.
‘Well, it’s only for a week, after all, isn’t it, Gladdie? It will be the weariest week of my life, I know. But I shan’t mind—after all, it’s my own doing—if only you come back with a better colour. You have been so pale, Gladdie, these last few days—pale and excitable. But it’s only a week, my darling, eh?’