She placed the freshly arranged music with an air of decision on the piano.
"I know very well what I wish, thank you," she said.
There was another silence.
"Is that all?" he asked her.
"Quite all. Except"—she turned round upon him and showed him that the dark skin of her face had whitened, that her eyes were hurt and angry—"except that Alick has to go next week. I suppose I ought to give a term's notice; but also, if I don't, I suppose they'll do without it—I shall be ready to go with him. We shall be busy till we start. I may not see you to speak to again—this will be our good-bye."
"Is that so?" he said.
She could hardly believe her ears; she held her breath in the cruelty of the surprise, and set her teeth to help her to bear the pain.
"Ours has been a long friendship," she said, striving to steady her voice. "Two years—seeing each other every day. Strange, isn't it, how things come to an end?"
"Except some things which are endless," he said.
She took heart of grace at that.