“I've come to say good-bye.”
“Good-bye?”
“Yes—I'm going to-night. What I've been expecting for so long has happened at last. There's been a blow up at the bookshop and I've got to go.”
For an instant the colour left her face; her book fell to the ground and she put her hand back on the arm of the chair to steady herself.
“Oh! how silly of me ... never mind picking it up.... Oh thank you, Peter. You gave me quite a shock, telling me like that. We shall all miss you dreadfully.”
His affection for her was strong enough to break in upon the great overwhelming excited exultation that had held him all the evening. He was dreadfully sorry to leave her!... dear Norah Monogue, what a pal she'd been!
“I shall miss you horribly,” he said with that note in his voice that showed that, above all things, he wished to avoid a scene. “We've been such tremendous pals all this time—you've been such a brick—I don't know what I should have done....” He pulled himself up. “But it's got to be. I've felt it coming you know and it's time I really lashed out for myself.”
“Where are you going?”
“Ah! I must keep that dark for a bit. There's been trouble at the bookshop. It'll be all right I expect but I don't want Mother Brockett to stand any chance of being mixed up in it. I shall just disappear for a week or two and then I'll be back again.”
She smiled at him bravely: “Well, I won't ask what's happened, if you don't want to tell me, but of course—I shall miss you. After seven years it seems so abrupt. And, Peter, do take care of yourself.”