Presently she put forth her hands, almost mechanically, and reached her cloak and hat from the chair behind her.
The soft rustle of her dress upon the carpet struck his ear; he looked up with a start, like one waking out of a painful dream.
"You are going!" he said, in his usual voice.
"Yes; I am going."
He stood up, facing her.
"There is nothing more to be said, is there?" He said it not as though he asked her a question, but as one asserting a fact.
"Nothing, I suppose," she answered, rather wearily, not looking at him as she spoke.
"I shall not see you again, as I leave to-morrow morning by the early train. You will, at least, wish me good-bye?"
"Good-bye, Maurice."
"Good-bye, Vera; God bless you."