“Really, I’d much rather not.”
“That doesn’t matter. You’ve got to. You can easily sleep with me. We’ll talk the whole question over to-night before going to sleep. You can’t do a big thing like this all on your own.”
“That’s just what I can. I’m going to, anyway....”
“Well, you’re coming home with me to-night, anyway....”
“If you insist——”
“I do.”
A man came striding up the stairs three at a time from the platform. It was George Trant.
“Sorry I’m late,” he said. “The luggage-office was shut, and I had to waken somebody up....” Then he saw Catherine. “... Er ... I say ... I didn’t see you, Miss Weston! Or shall I call you Catherine, as I used? And how are you? I haven’t heard of you for ages.”
He held out his hand, but Catherine made no movement.
“I’m quite well,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry I can’t stop here talking; I’ve a train to catch. Good-night!”