“Kitty, why do you say that, and in such a tone?”
“Why did you go away almost as soon as I asked Hilda to tell my story?”
“Why? Well, because—” he hesitated—“because it suddenly occurred to me that—that there was a thing I must attend to,” he concluded lamely. “Good heavens, Kitty, you surely didn’t imagine that I was anything but keen to hear your story! Ever since I learned you were in London I’ve been wondering how the great change came about.”
His earnestness overcame her doubts.
“I’m a horrid thing, Colin,” she declared self-reproachfully, “but I wanted to make sure that you did not despise me—”
“Despise you!”
“—for running away from Dunford, and for accepting the kindness of strangers as I have done.”
“What an absurd idea, Kitty! I won’t tell you how glad I was to hear you were in London and in the care of such friends. Show that you trust me a little better by telling me how it all came about. By the way, have you heard from Dunford since you left?”
She shook her head. “I sent my aunt my address, and told her I was all right, but she has not answered. Well, I’m not so surprised at that as at not hearing from Sam, the postman. It was he who helped me to get away—”