She was silent, but suddenly her tears began to fall upon the strong hands that held hers. She would have given anything to have repressed them at that moment. With her whole soul she shrank from showing him her weakness, but it overpowered her. She bowed her head lower still, and wept.
He sat quite motionless for seconds, so that even in the depth of her distress she marvelled at his patience. But at last, very gently, he moved, let her hands go, and rose.
He stood awhile turned from her, his face to the window, though the sun-blind was all that could have met his view; finally, with grave kindness, he spoke.
"I think I had better leave you to prepare for the journey. There is not much time at your disposal, and you will probably need it all. It is settled that Noel is to go with us?"
"You won't mind?" she whispered.
"I think it a very good plan," he answered.
He turned round and came back to her. She had commanded herself to a certain extent, but still she could not raise her face. She waited tensely as he approached, possessed by a sudden, almost delirious longing to feel the touch of his lips.
Her desire surged into leaping hope as he stopped beside her. Would he—could he? But he did not stoop. He only laid his hand for a moment upon her head.
"Chris," he said, "try to think of me as a friend—and don't be afraid."
She thrilled at the low-spoken words. In another moment she would have conquered all hesitation and sprung up to feel his arms about her, to hide her face against him, to open to him all her quivering heart. But for that moment he did not wait.