He went with her to the door.
"Shall I walk back with you?" he asked formally.
She shook her head.
"No. I'm better now, and it's quite light still beyond the trees. Good-bye, and—thank you!"
"Good-bye!" he said.
He followed her to the gate, opened it for her, and stood there watching till he saw her emerge from the shadow cast by the overarching trees. Then—for he knew that the rest of the journey was no more than a few minutes' easy walk—he turned back into the house, and shut himself in.
Entering the room he had just quitted, he locked the door, and there he remained for a long, long time.
VII
It was not till she descended to dinner that Cynthia's injured hand was noticed.
She resolutely made light of it to all sympathisers but it was plain to Babbacombe, at least, that it gave her considerable pain.