He was coming out of the little post office as she was going in, and he pulled up short with a muttered apology before he recognised her; then—well, then they both got red, and a little flame crept into Kettering's eyes.
"I thought I was never going to see you any more," Christine said rather nervously. "Are you angry with me?"
"Angry!" He laughed a little. "Why ever should I be angry with you? . . . I—the fact is, I've been in London on business."
"Oh!" She looked rather sceptical; she raised her chin a dignified inch. "You ought to have told me," she said, unthinkingly.
He looked at her quickly and away again.
"I missed you," said Christine naïvely.
"That is very kind of you." There was a little silence. "May I—may I walk a little way with you?" he asked diffidently.
"If you care to."
He checked a smile. "I shall be delighted," he said gravely.
They set out together.