“I shall not forget,” was all she would say.
“I wonder if it would be too much to ask for an occasional letter,” he went on. “Perhaps, if you remembered what a boon it would be to the exile—?”
“Oh, yes, I’ll write to you sometimes,” with frankness. “I dare say I shall be glad to air my opinions upon London and things generally, now and again.”
“Not so glad as I shall be to get them. How I wish I could have been here and, perhaps, helped you all a little, and still had the good position. I could at least have taken you to theatres, and down the river.”
“It would have been nice,” she assented.
“I may get back in four years,” he continued, “but hardly before.”
“When do you sail?”
“Next week.”
“Next week!” in astonishment. “How near it seems.”
“Yes.” He hesitated. “May I come and see you again!”