"Whatever the effect," she heard someone reply with an effort at lightness, "deal gently with me, old man. The trouble is of my own making. I seem unable to face the results."
The train started and the voices were lost. Bucks stepped into the car and, without seeing Gertrude in the shadow, walked forward. She felt that Glover was alone on the platform and sat for several moments irresolute. After a while she rose, crossed to the table and fingered the roses in the jar. She saw him sitting alone in the dusk and stepped to the door; the train had slowed for the yard. "Mr. Glover?—do not get up—may I be frank for a moment? I fear I am causing unnecessary complications—" Glover had risen.
"You, Miss Brock?"
"Did you really mean what you said to me this afternoon?"
"Very sincerely."
"Then I may say with equal sincerity that I should feel sorry to spoil papa's plans and Mr. Bucks' and your own."
"It is not you, at all, but I who have——"
"I was going to suggest that something in the nature of a compromise might be managed——"
"I have lost confidence in my ability to manage anything, but if you would manage I should be very——"
"It might be for two weeks—" She was half laughing at her own suggestion and at his seriousness.