"Hang it all, we're alive ..." and she surrendered to his living mouth.
§16
That night she slept, and the next morning she felt calmer. Some queer, submerged struggle seemed to be over. As a matter of fact, her affair was more uncertain than ever. After Albert's kiss, they had had no discussion and very little conversation. He had taken her back to the hotel, and had kissed her again—this time on the warm, submissive mouth she lifted to him. He had said—"I'll come and see you at Ansdore—I've got another week." And she had said—nothing. She did not know if he wanted to marry her, or even if she wanted to marry him. She did not worry about how—or if—she should explain him to Ellen. All her cravings and uncertainties were swallowed up in a great quiet, a strange quiet which was somehow all the turmoil of her being expressed in silence.
The next day he was true to his promise, and saw her off—sitting decorously in her first-class carriage "For Ladies Only."
"You'll come and see me at Ansdore?" she said, as the moment of departure drew near, and he said nothing about last night's promise.
"Do you really want me to come?"
"Reckon I do."
"I'll come, then."
"Which day?"
"Say Monday, or Tuesday."