‘I see.... How nice.’
A face smooth and cold as a stone. Not the faintest expression in it. Had he bidden the girl he knew good-bye with a face like this? No, it had certainly been twinkling and teasing then.
‘Well, I must get on.’ He looked up the path as if meditating immediate escape; then said, without looking at her, and in a frozen voice: ‘I got a letter from you this morning.’
‘Oh, you did get it?’
There could never have been a more foolish-sounding bleat. In the ensuing silence she added feebly: ‘Shall you—answer it—some time?’
‘I thought the best thing I could do was to leave it unanswered.’
‘Oh....’
Because of course it had been so improper, so altogether monstrous to write like that....
‘Well,’ she said. ‘I thought.... I’m sorry.’
She ought to apologise to him, because he had meant to go away without saying anything, and she had come on him unawares and spoilt his escape.