"Why, child, how cold you are!" he said.
She started violently back, and then, as a sudden memory assailed her, she caught his hand and held it for an instant.
"It is nothing," she said with an effort. "You—you startled me."
"You are nervous tonight," said Sir Roland.
She shrank under his look.
"You see, I did not expect you," she murmured.
"Evidently not." Sir Roland stood gravely considering her. "I came back," he said, after a moment, "because it occurred to me that you might be lonely after all, in spite of your assurance to the contrary. I did not ask you to accompany me, Naomi. I did not think you would care to do so. But I regretted it later, and I have come back to remedy the omission. Will you come with me to Scotland?"
His tone was quiet and somewhat formal, but there was in it a kindliness that sent the blood pulsing through her veins in a wave of relief even greater than her astonishment at his words. He did not know, then. That was her one all-possessing thought. He could not know, or he had not spoken to her thus.
She sat slowly forward, drawing her hair about her shoulders like a cloak. She felt for the moment an overpowering weakness, and she could not look up.
"I will come, of course," she said at last, her voice very low, "if you wish it."