“I’ve got too much to do to think about writing letters.”
It seemed impossible for her to say a gracious thing. Philip cursed the fate which chained him to such a woman. She went away to fetch his tea.
“Would you like me to sit down for a minute or two?” she said, when she brought it.
“Yes.”
“Where have you been all this time?”
“I’ve been in London.”
“I thought you’d gone away for the holidays. Why haven’t you been in then?”
Philip looked at her with haggard, passionate eyes.
“Don’t you remember that I said I’d never see you again?”
“What are you doing now then?”