"You'll find it dull—alone at Upton House," he said presently in a more friendly voice.
"Yes." Gladys was humiliated to know how near she was to weeping; she would rather have died than let Kettering know how desolate she felt.
"You don't care for motoring, do you?" he said suddenly. "Or I might come along and take you out sometimes."
"I do, I love it."
She could feel him staring at her in amazement.
"But you said——" he began.
"I know what I said; it was only another way of expressing my disapproval of—of—— Well, you know!" she explained.
"Oh," he said grimly; suddenly he laughed. "Well, then, may I call and take you out sometimes? We shall both be—lonely," he added with a sigh. "And even if you don't like me——"
He waited, as if expecting her to contradict him, but she did not, and it was impossible for him to know that through the darkness her heart was racing, and her cheeks crimson because—well, perhaps because she liked him too much for complete happiness.