Tilly met her own eyes in the glass, and looked very determined. The eyes in the glass responded by filling with tears. Tilly turned away impatiently from this disloyal exhibition.
"Very well, then," she said. "If you are as weak as that about it, you must just make up your mind to avoid him--that's all. There's nothing else for it. You must never see him again.... And I love him so!" she added inconsequently.... "Poor Tilly!"
Little 'Melia appeared in the doorway again.
"He's bringing up his portmanteau," she announced breathlessly, and vanished.
Tilly turned towards the door. Laborious steps were audible upon the staircase, as of one ascending with a heavy load. Presently a man in a great-coat passed the open doorway. On his left shoulder he carried a large portmanteau, which hid his face. He passed up the second-floor staircase and out of sight.
Tilly, hot and cold by turns, stood shaking in the middle of the floor.
There was a bump overhead. Then steps descending, slowly. He was coming back.
Tilly shut her eyes tight for a full half-minute; then opened them and tottered forward with a cry.
In the doorway--laughing, joyous, open-armed--stood The Freak.
"You foolish, foolish Tilly!" he said; and caught her as she fell.