He crossed the floor with her toward the door, neither of them speaking. She drew on her gloves, but at the door he said—
"Stop a moment. I'm going a little way with you."
"No, Cousin Antony, you can't. Myra Scutfield, my best friend, is waiting for me with her brother. I'm supposed to be visiting her for Sunday. You mustn't come."
Her hand was on the door latch. He gently took her hand and pushed it aside. He did not wish her to open
that door or to go through it alone. As they stood there silent, she lifted her face and said—
"I'm going away for the Easter holidays. Kiss me good-bye."
And he stooped and kissed her—kissed Bella, the little cousin, the honey child—no, kissed Bella, the woman, on her lips.