She saw the look of suffering in his face again, and she felt as if she were going to cry, out of sympathy.
'Of course,' she faltered, 'if it would be—what you call dishonourable—to tell——'
'Yes. It would be dishonourable to tell.'
There was a little silence.
'All I can hope,' he continued presently, 'is that you won't believe it's anything I've done myself.'
'Indeed, indeed I don't. I never could!'
She held out her hand and he took it gladly, and kept it in his for a moment; then he dropped it of his own accord, before she had made the least motion to take it back.
They walked on without speaking again for a long time, and without wishing to speak. When they were in sight of Mrs. Rushmore's gate Margaret broke the silence at last.
'Do you mean to take an early train to-morrow morning?' she asked.
'Nine o'clock, I think,' he answered.