“I shall go to London, my darling,” she said, stretching out her hands. “But I cannot go alone, after all I have suffered during the last twenty-four hours?” He looked at her questioningly.
“Suffered? What have you suffered?” he asked. “I thought you were happy about it.”
“About you? Yes, my darling; but Florence has tortured me.”
“It does not take much to torture you,” he interrupted. “What did she say?”
“I have told you already; I cannot go over it again. Don’t ask me to do so. You could torture me, Alfred, with a word or a look—if you ceased to love me.”
“We need not discuss that improbability now,” he said solemnly. “What about your going to London?”
“I shall go by the quarter-past one o’clock train this afternoon,” she answered. “You will take me, will you not?”
“I cannot go to-day,” he said firmly. “I must get back to Liphook now.” He pulled out his watch, a dull worn Waterbury one, at which Aunt Anne looked keenly. “But I will go to-morrow; I want to see my uncle.” His thoughts seemed to be intent on business matters. She waited a moment after he had finished speaking, and winked slowly to herself before she answered.
“Alfred,” she asked, “you do truly love me?” He looked at her steadfastly.
“Yes,” he answered, “I told you so last night.” She half rose from her chair again, but he waved her back. “Sit down,” he said, and she obeyed.