She hesitated.
“Then write me your good-bye, and you shall have one from me on Tuesday morning. Send me your London address in the letter. Shall you live where your sister is?”
“For the present, I believe.”
“And you will see your artist friend again. Shall you tell him? Have you told him?”
“I have not, and shall not. It is our secret.”
She gave a laugh of joy. Why did the laugh jar on him? He was so easily affected by subtleties of feeling which another man would not conceive.
They took leave of each other.
Kingcote walked about the lanes till some time after dark, then made his way to the rectory. Mr. Vissian himself opened the door—there was no evening service at the church in winter.
“Good! I expected you,” he exclaimed. “Better late than never. Have you had tea?”
“No; I should be glad of a cup.”