“Come into my room for a chat, old girl, before you turn in! It won’t seem like home unless I see you perched on my bed nursing your knees and your grievances at the same time. Got any grievances nowadays, eh? You used generally to have a good stock on hand. We’ll have to lay them together while I’m at home. That’s what I want to do—give you all a rattling good time! It’s what I have looked forward to most in coming home. How are things going, really? Quite well? No bothers and worries that you have been keeping to yourselves, for fear of making me anxious?”
“Nothing big, dear—only the little worries which one must grin and put up with.”
Betty perched herself on the bed, and fell into the old position, while Miles sat down on the chair by the dressing-table, and began unlacing his shoes with the same, oh, the very same gestures which he had used every night during the many long years when this evening conference had been the brightest spot in the day! It was as if time had flashed back for a moment, and they were boy and girl together once more! Betty’s eyes melted in tender rejoicing, and Miles cried heartily—
“Bet, my dear, you’ve grown rattling pretty! You beat Jill into fits when you look like that. You must wear that frock when Gerard comes next week. It suits you splendidly.”
“I got it for your sake—not Mr Gerard’s. You always liked pink, Miles. Oh, I shan’t have any grievances now that you are home. I am really and truly far less grumbly than I used to be. I have tried hard to make it a duty to be happy, since I discovered—you know how!—how imaginary my troubles really were—but sometimes I have felt very lonely. I think one does, as one grows older, for there seem so many things that one can’t talk about to the best of friends. Of course you may not understand the feeling—you are so devoted to Mr Gerard.”
Miles kicked his shoes in opposite directions—another old trick!—and stroked his chin silently. The offending beard had disappeared, but the skin was dark with constant shaving, and there were new lines in his face. This was a man indeed. The boy had disappeared for ever.
“I don’t think I should advertise my loneliness even to Gerard,” he said slowly. Then, leaning forward and opening a drawer in the dressing-table, “How is Cynthia?” he queried abruptly.
“Better!” replied Betty, so quietly that no one would have guessed the leap of excitement which her heart had given at the sound of her friend’s name uttered in this connection. “Very delicate still, but certainly better. They live entirely in the country for her sake, and the doctors think that in a year or two she will probably be quite well again. Meantime she is treated like an invalid, and we can seldom meet. It isn’t good for her to chatter, and it isn’t supposed to be good for my health to be there. I ache for her, Miles! No one will ever know what it has meant for me to be separated like this.”
Miles sat silently staring at his stockinged feet. His eyes were hidden, the heavy moustache covered the lines of his mouth, yet as Betty looked at him she felt a stab of reproach, as if, while pitying herself, she had inadvertently probed a deeper wound. Had Miles also ached for Cynthia? Had the separation from her been the hardest part of his long exile? She longed to question him on the subject, but the stern, set face gave no encouragement to curiosity, however affectionate.
“We are to go down to see her some day soon. She was almost as much excited about your coming home as we were ourselves, and we can run down to Franton and back quite easily in the day. You won’t be occupied with business every day while you are at home, will you, Miles? You will be able to give up some of your time to us?”