“For once, then, current gossip is correct.”
The whistle of the approaching train shrilled piercingly through the air and, startled back to a realisation of the present, Ann glanced hastily up the line.
“You’re meeting some one?” asked Eliot, his eyes following the same direction. She assented, and he turned as though to leave her. All at once he swung round on his heel and said brusquely:
“You need never imagine you’re not wanted at the Cottage. I like to think of you there.”
Without waiting for an answer he lifted his hat and strode away, and a minute later, with a harsh grating of brakes, the train ran into the station and Ann moved quickly towards it.
Tony sprang out on to the platform and hurried forward to greet her. He was looking thinner than when she had last seen him. His face was a little haggard, and the eyes beneath their long lashes were hard and bright.
“This is awfully good of you, Ann,” he said, speaking a trifle awkwardly. “Does Robin mind my suddenly billeting myself on you like this?”
“Mind? Why, of course not! We’re both delighted. And there’s some one else who is nearly bursting with excitement at the idea of seeing you again—Maria Coombe. You haven’t forgotten her?”
“Forgotten old Maria? By Jove, no! My ears tingle yet when I think of her.” And for an instant a smile of amused recollection chased away the moodiness of his expression. “Is she with you at the Cottage, then?”
“Yes. She volunteered to come to us, and you may guess we jumped at the idea. To have dear old Maria back smooths our path in life considerably, bless her! And I love to listen to her Devon accent! It sounds so homelike.”