That was true enough, or she would not have been as close to him as she was.
"It was bad enough when you didn't come on Sunday. I suppose you didn't get back from that Mrs. What's-her-name, your mother's friend, in time?"
"My dear, I had a chapter of accidents, and nearly missed the last train; I'll tell you all about it some day, and you'll laugh. I didn't feel like laughing then, I can tell you that."
"And I didn't feel like laughing, and I can tell you that. In fact, I--I cried."
"Stella!"
"I did; it seemed so awful. That was the longest Sunday I ever knew; and then when the evening came I kept expecting you every moment; I kept rushing out of the front door to look for you. Every footstep in the street I thought was yours, and every vehicle the hansom which was bringing you; when it kept getting later and later, and still you didn't come, I--I fancied all sorts of things, and I simply had to cry."
"My darling, I would infinitely rather have been with you than where I was."
That again was true enough; part of the time he had been in the tunnel--a gruesome time.
"What time was it when you did get back?"
"Frightfully late; but--Stella, you won't tell anyone if I tell you something? Promise!"