"No," she murmured then. "I--I am just--rather low about leaving;
that's all."
"Quite all?" he said.
His tone was so casual, so normal, that it seemed impossible now to think
of last night's happening save as an extravagant dream. She almost felt
for the moment as if she had imagined it all. And then he spoke again,
and she caught a subtle note of tenderness in his voice that brought
it all back upon her in an overwhelming rush.
"That's really all, is it? You're not unhappy about anything else? Scott
hasn't been bullying you?"
She gasped at the question. "Oh no! Oh no! He wouldn't! He couldn't!
I--haven't even seen him today."
He received the information in silence; but in a moment or two he tossed
away his cigarette with the air of a man having come to an abrupt
resolution.
"And so you're fretting about going home?" he said.
She nodded mutely. The matter would not bear discussion.
"Poor little Daphne!" he said. "It's been a good game, hasn't it?"
She nodded again. "Just like the dreams that never come true," she
managed to say.
"Would you like it to come true?" he asked her unexpectedly.
She glanced up at him with a woeful little smile. "It's no good thinking
of that, is it?" she said.
"I have an idea we could make it come true between us," he said.
She shook her head. That brief glimpse of his intent eyes had sent a
sudden and overwhelming wave of shyness through her.
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