There was a pause. Then Catherine said softly, ‘I’ve had such a pleasant evening, such a charming evening, and I should hate it to end up with one of my headaches.’
‘Why? Why?’ he asked, at once anxious. ‘Do you feel like that again?’
‘I do rather.’
‘Then you’ll certainly go home in a taxi,’ he said, looking round for one.
‘Oh, no—a taxi would be fatal,’ she said quickly, catching his arm as he raised it to wave to a distant rank. ‘They shake me so. I shall be all right if we walk along—quietly, not talking much.’
‘Poor little thing,’ he said looking down at her, flooded with tenderness and drawing her hand through his arm.
‘Not at all a poor little thing,’ she smiled. ‘I’ve been very happy this evening, and don’t want to end badly. So if you’ll just not talk—just walk along quietly——’
‘I insist on your taking my arm, then,’ he said.
‘I will at the crossings,’ said Catherine, who had drawn her hand out as soon as he had drawn it in.
In this way, first on their feet, and then at last, for walking in the silent streets was anyhow better than being in an omnibus and he went on and on till she was really tired, in an omnibus, and then again walking, they reached Hertford Street, and good-night had to be said in the presence of the night porter.