“I’ve told them to bring lunch in here,” he went on. “You’ll like it better than the public room––and I haven’t had mine yet.”
Esther looked up at him.
“And can we––can we go back to London to-day?” she asked.
“We can go any time you like,” he said.
He felt he had aged years during that morning. No sooner had Esther got out of his sight at the station than he was beside himself with remorse for having allowed her to go; he had spent the whole morning wandering about looking for her. He had been to this hotel a dozen times; he had only just come in again when she followed.
The relief of having her safely in his charge once more was almost more than he could bear. He walked over to the door, then stopped and looked back at her.
“You won’t ... you won’t run away from me again, will you?” he asked. For the first time there was real emotion in his voice.
Esther had been sitting looking into the fire; she raised her head now.
“Don’t go,” she said tremulously. “Please don’t go. I want to speak to you.”