"But—why?" she asked blankly.
"Before writing to you, I'd heard from Jack. He'll probably be in England within a week. I—don't want you to feel …" He had to leave the sentence unfinished.
Barbara had become very pale and for a moment she said nothing.
"This—doesn't mean that you're—saying good-bye?" she faltered.
"It's a present, not an ultimatum," Eric answered sharply.
So she could still try to make the best of both worlds.
"You've always been wonderfully generous!" she whispered. "I can never repay you."
From her tone and phrasing Eric knew that he had failed. His own sacrifice neither stirred nor shamed her into equal generosity; the volley was over, and the shuttlecock had dropped to the ground.
"Have you tried?" he asked sharply.
There was a whistle and a jolt, as the train began to move. Eric stepped off the foot-board, raised his hat slightly and turned on his heel. Mechanically he set his watch by the station clock. The train had come in late, but it was leaving on time.