It was Arnold who stood beside her. She recognised his strong, gaunt face with a sudden, joyous start which brought the colour to her cheeks. Had she unconsciously been longing for him? Had the heartache been a little because she had not seen him, because ever since that decisive morning he had kept away from her, taking her dismissal as final? Was it final? These were things he at least might have asked as he felt the quick response of her touch and saw the light flash back into her tear-filled eyes. But Nora thought of nothing—asked no questions. She clung to his arm like a tired, lost child.
"Oh, I am so glad," she said, almost incoherent with relief, "so glad!"
"I couldn't keep away," he said, himself shaken by her sudden self-abandonment. "I did my best, but in the end I had to come. I could not let you go so far from me without a God-speed. And something seemed to tell me that you would be glad to see me."
"I am!" she cried. "Of course I am!"
They reached Mrs. Ingestre and her husband, who were busy with the luggage registration. A shadow seemed to pass over the latter's face as she saw the two together, but she greeted Arnold with her usual serene courtesy.
"Miles has come too," she said.
Miles was, indeed, very much en évidence. He had made himself what he called "smart" for the occasion, and an extraordinary high collar and a flagrantly red tie certainly put him beyond all danger of being overlooked. His face was a trifle flushed—perhaps with the hurry of his arrival—and his manner jocose.
"You look as though you might flood the station any minute," he told Nora. "I bet anything you'd give your bottom dollar to be out of it."
"Don't, Miles!" she answered gently. "Of course I am sorry to leave you all. It is only natural."
Her eyes met Arnold's, and perhaps they said more than she knew. He came back to her side.