“Oh, because you’re not mine to kiss, I suppose.”
“Ah! that’s your affair,” he smiled.
At the hall door she suggested that, being bound for Waterloo, he might accompany her.
“I’m afraid of you,” he said.
“You needn’t be,” she murmured. “I’m done.”
In the end she waited while he packed a bag, and they drove together under the withered planes through the park to her hotel. But she declined to alight.
“You promised to be good,” he reminded her.
“I’m good—good as gold—I wouldn’t touch you for the world, but I’m going to see you off. Jim, do let me! I’ll come straight back and eat no end of dinner; I will, really! But I must say good-by to you there!”
“Why?”
“Oh, you wouldn’t understand; it’s a presentiment.”