“I’m sorry,” she answered. “I oughtn’t to have said it with mother lying cold upstairs.”
He shrugged his shoulders, forced to accept the evasive apology. But her challenge rankled. They parted stonily after the funeral, with the perfunctory handshake.
“I don’t suppose I shall ever see you again.”
“It’s rather unlikely,” said he.
“Well, good-bye.”
“Good-bye.”
He threw himself back in the taxi-cab with a great sigh of relief. Thank God the nightmare of the past few days was over. Now to awaken to the real and wonderful things of life—the miraculous love of the dark-eyed, quivering princess of his dreams: the work which since he had loved her had grown into the sacred aim of their perfect lives.
And just as he had wired her from Newcastle announcing his sailing, so did he wire her when he reached the railway station.
“Arrived. All well. Speeding straight to you with love and longing.”
Olivia smiled as she kissed the telegram. No one but her Alexis would have used the word “speeding.”