“I’m so happy to be able to do something for you.”
“Are you fond of me still?”
“Just as fond as ever.”
She put up her lips and he kissed her. There was a surrender in the action which he had never seen in her before. It was worth all the agony he had suffered.
She went away and he found that she had been there for two hours. He was extraordinarily happy.
“Poor thing, poor thing,” he murmured to himself, his heart glowing with a greater love than he had ever felt before.
He never thought of Norah at all till about eight o’clock a telegram came. He knew before opening it that it was from her.
Is anything the matter? Norah.
He did not know what to do nor what to answer. He could fetch her after the play, in which she was walking on, was over and stroll home with her as he sometimes did; but his whole soul revolted against the idea of seeing her that evening. He thought of writing to her, but he could not bring himself to address her as usual, dearest Norah. He made up his mind to telegraph.
Sorry. Could not get away, Philip.