She knew quite well what she would do if she were left there alone on Thursday night, and at the sudden thought of it she switched off the light and plunged the room into darkness. She lay in bed waiting for Fred to come up. She felt suddenly very unprotected. She would ask him to take her with him on Thursday, she would make some excuse; he would probably be glad.
She heard him undressing in the next room. He was whistling softly to himself; he stumbled over something and said “Damn.” She heard him gargle as he brushed his teeth. He hummed a song of the moment, “I wouldn’t go home in the dark”; and then she heard him stepping across the carpet towards the bed, softly lest he should wake her. He got into bed and grunted with satisfaction as he curled up into the sheets; his toe touched her foot and she shivered suddenly because it was cold.
“Hullo, old girl,” he said, “still awake?”
She didn’t answer. Then she turned slowly round towards him.
“Fred,” she said, “I think I’ll come away with you on Thursday after all.” But, as she said it to him, she was suddenly afraid of his suspecting something. He would want to know the reason. “It’s not,” she added hurriedly, “that I’m not perfectly happy here. I’m enjoying it awfully, it’s delightful; but, after all, there isn’t very much point in my staying here. I don’t want to after you’re gone.”
But he was sleepy. He yawned.
“I’m awfully tired, dear. We’ll talk about it to-morrow. But anyhow, I don’t quite see the point. You won’t want to be pottering about London with me. I’m only up there for business—these beastly publishers,” he yawned again. “You’d be bored, you know; much better stay here with Lady Gale. Besides, it’s all arranged.” His voice died off into a sleepy murmur.
But the terror seemed to gather about her in the darkness. She saw with amazing vision. She did not want to be left; she must not be left.
She put her hand on his arm.
“Fred, please—it’s important; I don’t want to stay.”