�Her second visit?� Thursdale pushed his chair back with a start and moved to another. �She came to see you again?�
�This morning, yes—by appointment.�
He continued to look at her blankly. �You sent for her?�
�I didn�t have to—she wrote and asked me last night. But no doubt you have seen her since.�
Thursdale sat silent. He was trying to separate his words from his thoughts, but they still clung together inextricably. �I saw her off just now at the station.�
�And she didn�t tell you that she had been here again?�
�There was hardly time, I suppose—there were people about—� he floundered.
�Ah, she�ll write, then.�
He regained his composure. �Of course she�ll write: very often, I hope. You know I�m absurdly in love,� he cried audaciously.
She tilted her head back, looking up at him as he leaned against the chimney-piece. He had leaned there so often that the attitude touched a pulse which set up a throbbing in her throat. �Oh, my poor Thursdale!� she murmured.