“Say next week.”
She shook her head.
“Sooner.”
“Day after to-morrow?”
“To-morrow,” she said, with a firm little bob of her head. “When things must be done, it’s better to have them over.”
He felt a leap within him at the thought of the great city which was his again. Then he looked at her and laid his hands on her shoulders.
“We will come back—next summer,” he said, smiling.
She smiled back at him, meeting his eyes steadily.