But when he turned back, she was still hesitating in the doorway. He lifted inquiring brows.
"Hugh...."
"Yes?"
"I trust you. Be faithful, dear."
"Thank you," he returned, not without flavour of bitterness. "I'll try to be. Good night."
She disappeared; the light of her lamp faded, flickering in the draught of the hall, stencilled the wall with its evanescent caricature of the balustrade, and was no longer visible.
"Hugh!" her voice rang from the upper floor.
He started violently out of deep abstraction, and replied inquiringly.
"You won't forget to lock the door?"
He swore violently beneath his breath; controlled his temper and responded pleasantly: "Certainly not."