‘It was very sweet of you, Judy.’
His voice was all at once gentle and caressing. He took her hand up lightly, and played with the fingers; and she felt the old helplessness start to drown her.
‘Well, it’s good-bye, I suppose, Roddy,’ she said very low.
‘It looks like it, Judy.’
‘Always, always going away. Aren’t you?’
He smiled at her.
‘I’m sorry I haven’t seen more of you, Judy. We haven’t had any of our serious conversations this time, have we?’
Oh, the charming mockery and indifference!... She took her hand away and said briefly:
‘No, we haven’t.’
This time there would be nothing new and delightful to remember. Save for this present vain exchange of words, they had scarcely spoken to one another. The evening when they had all bathed together, the afternoon she had played tennis with them, neither eyes nor voices had encountered each other secretly, alone together. She had seen him watching her now and then: that was all.