After a long pause, she said:
"Was she pretty?... Prettier than I used to be?"
"She was handsome, I think. Not like you at all. Why talk about it?... I'm glad I came, though, or I shouldn't have seen you. I shall always be glad to have seen you again. Remember that, after we part. For me, at least, it will never be so bitter since we've met and I've heard you say you're sorry."
"God bless you," she murmured almost inaudibly.
He left her after half an hour, but drifted towards her again in the afternoon. Insensibly they lost by degrees much of their constraint in talking together. She told him of her father's illness, of her own life in Balham; Heriot gave her some details of his appointment, explaining that it was the duty of an Attorney-General and Solicitor-General to reply to questions of law in the House, to advise the Government, and conduct its cases, and the rest of it. By Wednesday night it was difficult to him to realise that their first interview had occurred only forty-eight hours ago. It had become his habit on deck to turn his steps towards her, to sip tea by her side in the saloon, to saunter with her after dinner in the starlight. Even at last he felt no embarrassment as he moved towards her; even at last she came to smile up at him as he drew near. Moments there could not fail to be when such a state of things seemed marvellous and unnatural—when conversation ceased, and they paused oppressed and tongue-tied by a consciousness of the anomaly of their relations. Nevertheless such moments were but hitches in an intercourse which grew daily more indispensable to them both.
How indispensable it had become to herself the woman perceived as the end of the voyage approached; and now she would have asked no better than for them to sail on until she died. When she undressed at night, she sighed, "Another day over"; when she woke in the morning, eagerness quickened her pulses. On Saturday they would arrive; and when Friday dawned, the reunion held less of strangeness than the reflection that she and Heriot would separate again directly. To think that, as a matter of course, they would say good-bye to each other, and resume their opposite sides of an impassable gulf, looked more unnatural to her than the renewed familiarity.
Their pauses were longer than usual on Friday evening. Both were remembering that it was the last. Heriot had ascertained that Cheriton had been able to leave her but little; and the notion of providing her with the means to winter in some favourable climate was hot in his mind.
"It is understood," he said abruptly, "that you go to Drummond and do exactly as he orders? You'll not be so mad as to refuse at the last moment?"
"All right!" she answered apathetically, "I'll go. Shall I—will you care to hear what he says?"
"Your aunt has promised to write to me. By the way, there's something I want to say to-night. If what he advises is expensive, you must let me make it possible for you. I claim that as my right. I intended arranging it with Mrs. Baines, but she tells me you—you'd be bound to know where the money came from. He'll probably tell you to live abroad."