"Good-bye. They seem very anxious to burden you with my presence, don't they?" he said, with a forced laugh; "all luck to the book."
"Thanks. I will send it to you in instalments for criticism."
He was the last to remain in the porch, watching her across the fields; and there was not a criminal in the kingdom with whom he would not gladly have changed places at that moment.
"I shall go up to-night, I think, and surprise Norah," he muttered presently. There was a dull consolation in the idea of meeting the woman who had acquired the habit of being glad to see him; and he felt a little better when he packed his bag upstairs.
The baby was in bed when he walked into the flat, and Norah was having her solitary meal in the dining-room.
"Why are you here to-night?" she asked him, as he held her to him more closely than usual. There was a gleam in the eyes he had almost despised lately for not being more observant, but he did not notice it as he kissed her softly. "So Joan went away to-day, did she?" she added.
"Joan? Did she write to you?" he asked quickly.
"Oh, no. But I knew," and she nodded at him.
"How did you know, wise woman?" he said playfully.
"Because you have come home, of course," she replied, and laughed outright. He laughed too; but there was not a pleasant ring in his merriment and it was short-lived.