It was one o’clock before he went away.
The talk had ebbed. He sat thoughtful for a moment.
“I must go,” he said, and stood up. They faced each other, a little at a loss for parting words.
“It’s been wonderful to talk to you,” she said.
“It’s a great thing to have discovered you.”
Another pause. “It’s a great thing for me,” she said lamely.
“We’ll talk—many times,” he said.
He wanted to call her “my dear,” and an absurd shyness prevented him. And she was aware of that suppression.
She stood up straight before him in the passage with a flush on her cheeks and her eyes alight, and he wondered he had not thought her beautiful from the beginning. “Good-bye for the time,” he said, and smiled at her gravely and took and held her hand for a moment.
“Good night,” she said, and hesitated and then opened the green door for him and stood and watched him go up the Mews.