“You needn’t worry,” he said. “I’m sure there won’t be much of a search for you, and probably there’s no fear of further trouble. Only—you’ll never do that again, will you?”
“Never!”
“What will you do? Write me as soon as you reach Montreal. I’ll be anxious until I hear from you.”
“Yes, I shall write,” she said.
“How will you manage there?”
“I shall find a way.”
He persuaded her to take a cup of coffee and a sandwich at the lunch counter. Then he bought her some magazines and a box of chocolates.
“It’s time for you to go now,” he said. “I want you to know that never, as long as I live, shall I forget what you did for me. It was—”
“Hush!” she said. “You are repaying me, my dear. I only hope I have not brought you any trouble.”
The image of Clendenning rose up before him, but he answered valiantly: