“Not this very next Wednesday?”
“Yes.”
There was another silence. The night was as still as if the clock had slipped back and Valley Fields had become the remote country spot of two hundred years ago.
“Are you going?”
“I suppose so.”
From far away, out in the darkness, came the faint grunting of a train as it climbed the steep gradient of Sydenham Hill. An odd forlorn feeling swept over Kay.
“Yes, I suppose you must,” she said. “You can’t afford to offend your uncle, can you?”
Sam moved restlessly, and there was a tiny rasping sound as his hand scraped along the fence.
“It isn’t that,” he said.
“But your uncle’s very rich, isn’t he?”