"I'm going to telephone to Beverly.... Will you wait—here?"
"Ye-yes. Wh-what are you going to telephone? You can't go, you know. Please don't try—will you?"
"No," he said, looking down at her.
Things were happening swiftly—everything was happening in an instant—life, youth, time, all were whirling and spinning around her in bewildering rapidity; and her pulses, too, leaping responsive, drummed cadence to her throbbing brain.
She saw him mount the stairs and disappear—no doubt to his room, for there was a telephone there. Then, before she realized the lapse of time, he was back again, seating himself quietly beside her on the broad stair.
"Shall I tell you what I am going to do?" he said after a silence through which the confused sense of rushing unreality had held her mute.
"Wh-what are you going to do?"
"Walk to Beverly."
"Mr. Seabury! You promised——"