He took a step nearer, his hands thrust into his pockets in his characteristic way. He drew them out and they fell to his side as he regarded her fixedly with a smile on his lips. Then very gently he took her cheeks between his hands. She thrilled at the touch. They were fine strong hands; she had noted repeatedly all through the evening how finely formed they were, and the strength implied in them.
“It’s meant very much to me to meet you—you can’t know how much. I almost feel that I know you a little bit.”
“It’s meant so much more to me,” she returned sincerely. “I’d be ashamed if I wasn’t grateful. And that doesn’t mean at all that I feel that you’re a day older than I am!”
They were smiling gravely into each other’s eyes. There was not for the moment at least any question of a disparity of years. She drew away slowly until her face was free of his touch; then she laid her hands lightly on his shoulders.
“Please kiss me,” she whispered, and their lips met.
“Here, you two!”
They swung around to find Kemp in the door, watch in hand.
“We’ve just got time to make it. Your bag is at the station, Ward? All right. Go up and get your things, Grace. And tell Irene to hurry.”
Kemp was again the man of business, his preoccupation with the journey already showing in his eyes.
Irene was giving the last touches to her hair when Grace found her.