"But you'd better leave me to myself now."
And then Julian realized that his presence and company were ruining her chance. That thought turned him sick and dull.
"I can't," he began almost desperately.
She gave with her hand a little twitch at his.
"I say," she whispered, and she spoke to him as if to Jessie in the tiny flannel-lined basket, "Go bials! will you?"
"But you?" he said, and there was something that was half a sob in his voice.
"I can't. But you—go bials."
And then, to please her, he held up his hand and hailed a hansom. Getting in he gave the direction of his rooms, loud enough for her to hear. She stood at the edge of the pavement and nodded at him as she heard it.
Then she turned away, and Julian saw the feathers in her big hat waving, as she joined once more the flight of the bats.