the two-shilling soiled." She left off abruptly, and her face clouded.
"Don't!" he whispered.
"How quick you are!" Now their hands met. She smiled and went on talking. "I heard a click and saw that the signals were down. The train rounded the curve and came in slowly. People descended; I was conscious of half a dozen, although I saw but one. No, I didn't see you, only your covert coat and felt hat. I felt a pang of disappointment." Their hands fell apart. I saw he was hurt. She may have seen it too, but made no sign.
"It was not your fault, you had done nothing... you just were not as I expected you. You had cut yourself shaving, for one thing." He put his hand to his chin involuntarily, there was barely a scratch. "As we walked back from the station my heart felt quite dead and cold. I hated the scratch on your cheek, the shape of your hat, everything." He turned pale. "I wondered how I was going to bear two whole days, what I should say to you."
"We talked!"
"I know, but it was outside talk, forced, laboured. You remember, 'How warm the weather was in London'; and that the train was not too full for comfort. You had papers in your hand, the Saturday Review, the Spectator. You spoke of an article by Runciman in the first."
