“I must be going back to London,” he said. “I have to see the Chief at four this afternoon. And you know why!”
The girl nodded.
“What will you tell him?” she asked. “Will you accept his offer to remain on in the Secret Service?”
Desmond looked at her ruefully.
“You’re so eloquent about it,” he said slowly, “that I think I must!”
Smiling, she gave him her hand. Desmond held it for an instant in his.
Then, without another word, he turned and strode off towards the winding white road that led to the station.
Barbara watched him until a turn in the road hid him from her sight. Then she pulled out her handkerchief.
“Good Heavens, girl!” she said to herself, “I believe you’re crying!”