"'I knew you couldn't. And I couldn't foresee that my blood would betray me one evening. And here we are! Like meeting after we are dead. Spring comes now but it comes for other people. All these little crocus trumpets—like a brass band it is—they are trumpeting up the next lot of lovers. Better luck to them!'
"We sat still for a time. In the background of my mind Milly and her assembled tea-cups became evident as a faint urgency. 'You're late,' she'd say.
"'Where are you living, Hetty?' I asked. 'What is your address?'
"She shook her head after a moment's thought. 'Better you shouldn't know.'
"'But somehow I might help.'
"'It would only disturb us all. I've got my cup—of dirty water—to drink. I've got to stand what I'm in for. What could you do to help me?'
"'Well,' said I, 'my address anyhow is easy to keep in mind. It's just what it was when we—— In the days when we lived—— Thunderstone House it is. Some day there might be something——'
"'It's good of you.'
"We stood up face to face, and as we stood there a thousand circumstances vanished and nothing remained but our hurt and injured selves. 'Good-bye, Hetty,' I said. 'Good luck.'
"Our hands met. 'Good luck to you, Harry. It's no good, but I'm glad we met like this. And to find you forgive me a little at last.'"