“Never mind me. Please tell me more—if you want to.”
“There isn’t any more. If you are watching the train to-morrow night, you may see the last of me. I’ll be on the look out, anyway.”
They had come to the gate leading to the main road, and by tacit agreement they halted.
“But you haven’t quarrelled with your people, Colin?”
He smiled queerly. “We don’t quarrel in our family—more’s the pity. We bottle it up, and of course that preserves the resentment. So, as far as I can see, we shall part politely, but I’m perfectly well aware that I needn’t trouble to come home again until I can prove that my way was the right one.” His tone changed suddenly. “But that’s enough—too much—about my affairs. Tell me something about yourself, Kitty.”
She shook her head. “I must go; it’s almost ten, and—”
“Let me come as far as the end of the little wood.”
She hesitated and gave in. It was for the last time. “We must walk quickly, then,” she said.
But their steps lagged in the darkness of the pines.
“Do you still want to get away from Dunford?” he asked her. “Does the London train still call you?”