Cary clapped her hands.
"Truly? You really mean it; you'll take me to the Point at last?"
"You'll go then?"
"Of course I'll go! I'll get on a short skirt this minute. See me run!"
She jumped down from the window seat like a delighted child.
Stewart caught at her hand as she passed and detained her.
"I haven't the right to ask," he said quickly, looking up into her face with his grave Scotch eyes, "but were you thinking of Robert when I spoke to you?"
"Yes," said Cary, not looking at him. "I've been thinking of him all day."
Stewart let her hand drop suddenly, but Cary made no movement to be gone.
"I—I can't just tell you why," she said, pressing her hand tightly over the one Stewart had held, and keeping her eyes fixed on a bust of Burns, "but I feel—somehow, and I suppose it's foolish—we—we won't see him again for a long time."