"How long can you stay?" she asked. The question had been burning in her for two hours.
"Well, over the week end, I think."
Her heart, that had fluttered like a bird, sank, as a bird sinks in terror with wings tight shut.
"Have you got to go up to town to-morrow?"
"I have, worse luck. How do the trains go from this godforsaken place?"
"About every two hours. What sort of train do you want? An early one?"
"Rather. Got to be at Whitehall by twelve."
"Will the nine-fifteen do?"
"Yes; that's all right."
The wings of her heart loosened. It rose light, as if air, not blood, flowed from its chambers.