She pictured Esther as a poor innocent little rustic, as simple as Tommy. She never saw the girl, and so was never enlightened. She waited for two hours, but no one came. Then, worried, heavy-hearted, she went back to bed.
VIII
Tommy had hurried back to Esther, and found her just as he had left her—a model of patience and propriety, with her little bag beside her. Though she was pale and heavy-eyed with sleep, she was as neat and fresh as ever. He told her his plan.
“Come on,” he said. “Hurry up! Alison said she’d wait for you.”
“I’m not going there,” she said. “I can’t, Tommy.”
“You’ll have to, dear!”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“I can’t! I can’t! I just couldn’t face a strange woman now. What would she think of me, running away with you like this?”
“But what can I do with you, Esther?”
She clasped his arm and looked up into his face with streaming eyes.