"Let us go and find a comfortable corner for you," he suggested.
She followed him passively, and they walked along the platform to the end of the train, where the crowd of passengers was less dense.
"Dear little Nora!" he said, looking down at her with infinite pity and tenderness. The tears rushed again to her eyes. She fought them down courageously, but her voice shook as she answered:
"It is so hard to go," she said, "much harder than I thought this morning. I have only just realised how dear everything—everybody is to me."
"Nora, that is what I hoped. You are so young—you do not know your own heart. Now perhaps you can tell better—if there is any chance for me."
She saw the pleading in his face, and she made no answer. Her throat hurt her and she was no longer so sure. She did care for him, and if she had felt no thrill of passion at his touch, his presence seemed to envelop her in a warm, comforting glow of protecting tenderness infinitely precious.
"Nora," he went on, "even now it is not too late. My dearest, what are you waiting for? What are you expecting to find? I believe I could make you happy—my love is so great."
She threw up her head with the determined gesture he knew so well.
"I must go," she said. "It would be weak and cowardly to turn back at the last minute. Only——"
"You will come back soon?"