He started round at the sound--it was the voice he loved so well. Half buried in a lounging chair in the darkest corner was she. She came forward, laughing.
"I did not see you," he said, taking her hand "You are here alone!"
A conscious blush tinged her cheeks; she knew that she had stayed in the room to wait for him.
"They have gone somewhere, Susan and Mrs. Macpherson--to see a new cat of the professor's, I think. I have seen so many of those stuffed animals."
"When do you go down home?"
"The day after to-morrow. Susan has fixed the second week in January for her visit. Will that time suit you?"
"The time might suit," he replied, with a slight stress on the word "time," as if there were something else that might not. "Unless, indeed--"
"Unless what?"
"Unless I should have left England, I was going to say. An offer has been made me to-day--or rather, to speak more correctly, an intimation that an offer is about to be made me--of some work abroad. If I accept it, it will take me away for a couple of years."
She glanced up, and their eyes met. A yearning look of love, of dire tribulation at the news, shone momentarily in hers. Then they were bent on the carpet, and Mr. Hunter looked at the fire--the safest place just then.