“I cannot,” she said. “I must go back. It was only for one little hour I came. We have had it, Harry, and I must go.”
“But you will return? I shall see you again?”
She smiled a wan smile at him.
“Who knows, Harry?”
“Where are you going? Where do you live?”
“Please, Harry!—ask no questions. Let me go.”
There was a dignity about her which silenced him. He opened the door for her and they went out into the hall. In a dazed preoccupation, he went up to the outer door and opened it to the night. Then he turned and perceived her coatless condition.
“Good Heavens, Christine, you can’t go out like that! Wait a minute. I’ll lend you my fur coat. It’s better than nothing.”
He darted into the adjoining clothes-lobby, returned with the garment. The hall was empty; the door still open. She had gone.
He ran out and down the drive after her, crying her name: “Christine! Christine!” There was no response, neither sound nor sign of her. She had vanished.