"If you see Duncan before I do, let me know," he remarked finally.
Cynthia bit her lip. "Why should I?" she asked.
"Because we've only got five minutes more alone together, at best. If we see him in time, we can go down a side street."
"I think it would be hard to get away from Mr. Duncan if we met him—even if we wanted to," she said, laughing outright.
"You don't know how true that is," he replied, with feeling.
"That sounds as though you'd tried it before."
He paid no attention to this thrust.
"I shan't see you again till I get to Brampton," he said; "that will be a whole week. And then," he ventured to look at her, "I shan't see you until the Christmas holidays. You might be a little kind, Cynthia. You know I've—I've always thought the world of you. I don't know how I'm going to get through the three months without seeing you."
"You managed to get through a good many years," said Cynthia, looking at the pavement.
"I know," he said; "I was sent away to school and college, and our lives separated."