His jutting brows drew together again. "Ah, I can't split hairs with you. Won't you put me out of my misery?"
She smiled, but not unkindly. "Do you want an anæsthetic?"
"No—a clean cut with the knife!"
"You forget that we're not allowed to despatch hopeless cases—more's the pity!"
He flushed to the roots of his thin hair. "Hopeless cases? That's it, then—that's my answer?"
They had reached the point where, at the farther edge of the straggling settlement, the tiled roof of the railway-station fronted the post-office cupola; and the shriek of a whistle now reminded Justine that the spot was not propitious to private talk. She halted a moment before speaking.
"I have no answer to give you now but the one in my note—that I'll see you tomorrow."
"But if you're sure of knowing tomorrow you must know now!"
Their eyes met, his eloquently pleading, hers kind but still impenetrable. "If I knew now, you should know too. Please be content with that," she rejoined.
"How can I be, when a day may make such a difference? When I know that every influence about you is fighting against me?"