But he did not even know that. It was a thing outside questioning; something he seemed to have had no free will about. It was just there—a strong, undeniable fact.
Why reason? It did not need reasoning. He loved her. He would always love her—simply because she was Hal—and as Hal, to him, was the one woman who filled his heart.
No; Lorraine did not know just what fire of repentance and self-condemnation and hopeless aching her recklessness had lit for him; but it was enough that his gravity grew and deepened, and she believed she could lighten it.
She made immediate plans; cancelled her present engagement at considerable monetary loss to herself, and almost before any of them realised it, had vanished to a little out-of-the-way spot in Brittany, alone with Jean.
Hal was quite unhappy that she could not go to her for her own summer holiday, but Dick Bruce’s people were taking her to Norway with them, and she would not have a day to spare.
She made Alymer promise to run across and see how she was, if possible, and then departed without any suspicions or forebodings, with Dudley and Dick to join the rest of the party at Hull, whence they were to start for the Fiords.
When she returned early in September, Lorraine was still away, and her letters gave no hint of returning. Still a little anxious, she sought an interview with Alymer, asking him to meet her for tea the following day.
The instant they met, Hal saw the change in him, and exclaimed in surprise:
“Haven’t you had a holiday? You don’t look very grand.”
Unable to meet her eyes, he turned away towards a small table.