“I presume you found your work was over quicker than what you expected,” she said.
“Well, yes—that is, no: there are plenty of things I should have liked to do. But my holiday's limited; and now that Mr. Royall needs the horse for himself it's rather difficult to find means of getting about.”
“There ain't any too many teams for hire around here,” she acquiesced; and there was another silence.
“These days here have been—awfully pleasant: I wanted to thank you for making them so,” he continued, his colour rising.
She could not think of any reply, and he went on: “You've been wonderfully kind to me, and I wanted to tell you.... I wish I could think of you as happier, less lonely.... Things are sure to change for you by and by....”
“Things don't change at North Dormer: people just get used to them.”
The answer seemed to break up the order of his prearranged consolations, and he sat looking at her uncertainly. Then he said, with his sweet smile: “That's not true of you. It can't be.”
The smile was like a knife-thrust through her heart: everything in her began to tremble and break loose. She felt her tears run over, and stood up.
“Well, good-bye,” she said.
She was aware of his taking her hand, and of feeling that his touch was lifeless.