"He's your host, and you're his friend. I know. But—"
Her voice trailed off. The muscles of Jimmy's back tightened and quivered. But he could find no words.
"I wouldn't ask anyone else. But you're—different, somehow. I don't know what I mean. We hardly know each other. But—"
She stopped again; and still he was dumb.
"I feel so alone," she said very quietly, almost to herself. Something seemed to break in Jimmy's head. His brain suddenly cleared. He took a step forward.
A huge shadow blackened the white grass. Jimmy wheeled round. It was McEachern.
"I have been looking for you, Molly, my dear," he said, heavily. "I thought you must have gone to bed."
He turned to Jimmy, and addressed him for the first time since their meeting in the bedroom.
"Will you excuse us, Mr. Pitt?"
Jimmy bowed, and walked rapidly toward the house. At the door, he stopped and looked back. The two were standing where he had left them.