Surprise, involuntary hope, gratitude, admiration, all struggled in the look with which he regarded her.
“You always say the right thing,” he declared simply. “I didn’t know the child——” He paused, but there was a look of sudden tenderness in his eyes. “Well! she’s going away now,” he began.
“And that’s such a good thing,” interrupted Miss Page, eagerly. “She will hear and see so much to interest her. She will come back with new impressions. You will have something to work on.”
They strolled out of the garden together, and across the lawn without speaking.
“Good-bye,” said the doctor, starting as though from a deep reverie, as he found himself opposite his car.
He pressed her hand warmly. “You have made me much happier,” he added shyly.
“But don’t forget to tell her very often that you love her, and that she’s the prettiest thing in the world!” Miss Page admonished him, with a laugh. “There are remarks which never bore a woman, however many times they are repeated. Those are two of them.”
VI
The midday post had come while Miss Page and the doctor talked in the garden.
As she passed through the hall after the motor-car had disappeared, Anne found her letters lying upon the table.