“At what cottage?”
“Mrs Burke’s—not far from the station.”
“May I come to see you there?”
Herminia’s clear brown eyes gazed down at him, all puzzlement. “Why, surely,” she answered; “I shall be delighted to see you!” She paused for a second. “We agree about so many things,” she went on; “and it’s so rare to find a man who can sympathise with the higher longings in women.”
“When are you likeliest to be at home?” Alan asked.
“In the morning, after breakfast—that is, at eight o’clock,” Herminia answered, smiling; “or later, after lunch, say two or thereabouts.”
“Six weeks,” Alan repeated, more to himself than to her. Those six week were precious. Not a moment of them must be lost. “Then I think,” he went on quietly, “I shall call tomorrow.”
A wave of conscious pleasure broke over Herminia’s cheek, blush rose on white lily; but she answered nothing. She was glad this kindred soul should seem in such a hurry to renew her acquaintance.