�I suppose it�s rather ridiculous,� he owned; and as she remained silent, he added, with a sudden break—�Or have you another reason for pitying me?�
Her answer was another question. �Have you been back to your rooms since you left her?�
�Since I left her at the station? I came straight here.�
�Ah, yes—you could: there was no reason—� Her words passed into a silent musing.
Thursdale moved nervously nearer. �You said you had something to tell me?�
�Perhaps I had better let her do so. There may be a letter at your rooms.�
�A letter? What do you mean? A letter from her? What has happened?�
His paleness shook her, and she raised a hand of reassurance. �Nothing has happened—perhaps that is just the worst of it. You always hated, you know,� she added incoherently, �to have things happen: you never would let them.�
�And now—?�
�Well, that was what she came here for: I supposed you had guessed. To know if anything had happened.�