“Let me see you as far as the door... Well, I hope it’s a success.”
They crossed the Strand and dived through a hidden courtyard and down a flight of steps before she answered:
“I can’t say it is—so far.”
“Come! that’s honest!,” said Eric. “If you’ve the moral courage to admit it’s a failure, why don’t you have the greater moral courage to chuck the whole thing up?”
“Ah! I can’t do that.” She stopped in front of a door and felt for her latch-key. “I suppose you wouldn’t come in, if I asked you?”
Eric pretended to look at his watch and even walked away to the nearest lamp-post, where he looked at it again. He had still two hours’ work to do, but the girl’s dejection of voice and her candid admission of failure touched him.
“Are you all alone?” he asked.
“Yes. You won’t compromise me; and I shouldn’t mind if you did,” she added with a touch of her old impatience. “I was thinking of you. You’re so well-known—”
“If you’re all by yourself... I’m thinking of you—”
“Ah, I was afraid you wouldn’t come!”