“Not yet—not yet. PLEASE.” Vanderbank seemed really to fear it, but on Mr. Longdon’s releasing him with a little drop of disappointment they went together to the door of the room, where they had another pause.
“She’s to come down to me—alone—in September.”
Vanderbank appeared to debate and conclude. “Then may I come?”
His friend, on this footing, had to consider. “Shall you know by that time?”
“I’m afraid I can’t promise—if you must regard my coming as a pledge.”
Mr. Longdon thought on; then raising his eyes: “I don’t quite see why you won’t suffer me to tell you—!”
“The detail of your intention? I do then. You’ve said quite enough. If my visit must commit me,” Vanderbank pursued, “I’m afraid I can’t come.”
Mr. Longdon, who had passed into the corridor, gave a dry sad little laugh. “Come then—as the ladies say—‘as you are’!”
On which, rather softly closing the door, the young man remained alone in the great emptily lighted billiard-room.