“You—no, no, thanks.” She clenched her fingers tightly inside her muff. “No one can help me and I can’t help myself.”
“I’m sorry,” he repeated. “You’re such a good sort, I hate to see you suffering; I’m afraid it’s something pretty bad.”
“I’d rather not talk about myself. Tell me about yourself. Don’t you feel lonesome up here without Agatha?”
“Oh, we’re settling down into conventional married life. Quite pleased to be together, but not inconsolable when we’re apart. Aggy’s growing up and finding other amusements in life besides honeymooning.”
“And you?” she asked, not looking at him, but fixing her gaze straight ahead.
“I? Didn’t I tell you I’m very busy?”
“And that’s all you care about?”
“I’m beginning to think so. It’s really the only game worth playing. Now, here we are at Hyde Park corner. Shall I take a turn back with you and be late at the office? Or be a good boy, remember that work’s first, pleasure second?”
“Be a good boy,” she replied, holding out her hand.
She stood still, watching him as he strode rapidly away, and when he was out of sight, still stood there, her lips tightly pressed together, suppressing the cry of hopelessness that tried to force its way from her heart.