“It didn’t matter,” said Fraser.
Conversation came to a standstill. Miss Tyrell, with her toes on the fender, gazed in a contemplative fashion at the fire. “I didn’t know——” began Fraser, who was still standing.
He cleared his voice and began again. “I didn’t know whether you would rather I left off coming,” he said, slowly.
Her gaze travelled slowly from the fire to his face. “You must please yourself,” she said, quietly.
“I would rather please you,” he said, steadily.
The girl regarded him gravely. “It is rather inconvenient for you sometimes,” she suggested, “and I am afraid that I am not very good company.”
Fraser shook his head eagerly. “It is not that at all,” he said hastily.
Poppy made no reply, and there was another long silence. Then Fraser advanced and held out his hand.
“Good-bye,” he said, quietly.
“Good-bye,” said the girl. She smiled brightly, and got up to see him downstairs.