‘I will leave you, Julian. I only came to say good-night. And to say I was sorry I made you angry. I wouldn’t have waked him for the world.’
‘It’s all right. I’m sorry I was angry. Don’t worry.’
‘Good-night, Julian.’
‘Good-night Judith.... You look so lovely——’
She thought: ‘I shall never see him like this again. I must remember....’
They looked at each other deeply, and when she turned silently away she had in imagination stooped and kissed his cheek.
As she opened the door, laughter and talk came suddenly to her from below,—a faint roar of male voices that struck her with strange alarm, and seemed to threaten her. She took a step back into the room again, listened and whispered:
‘Julian, who is that Tony?’
He shrugged.
‘I don’t know. He doesn’t talk to me. He writes verse I believe. He’s just bringing out a book. I gather from his conversation he is quite the thing at Cambridge—in certain circles.’