"No, no! It'll be all right, dear--it'll all come right.It must--and shall."
Again her fingers twined amongst his, like a child's.She seemed to have a wonderful knowledge of the exact thing to say and do to keep him helpless.And she went on:
"I didn't try to love you--it isn't wrong to love--it wouldn't hurt her.I only want a little of your love."A little--always a little! But he was solely bent on comforting her now.To think of her going home, and sitting lonely, frightened, and unhappy, all the evening, was dreadful.And holding her fingers tight, he kept on murmuring words of would-be comfort.
Then he saw that they were out in Piccadilly.How far dared he go with her along the railings before he said good-bye? A man was coming towards them, just where he had met Dromore that first fatal afternoon nine months ago; a man with a slight lurch in his walk and a tall, shining hat a little on one side.But thank Heaven!--it was not Dromore--only one somewhat like him, who in passing stared sphinx-like at Nell.And Lennan said:
"You must go home now, child; we mustn't be seen together."For a moment he thought she was going to break down, refuse to leave him.Then she threw up her head, and for a second stood like that, quite motionless, looking in his face.Suddenly stripping off her glove, she thrust her warm, clinging hand into his.Her lips smiled faintly, tears stood in her eyes; then she drew her hand away and plunged into the traffic.He saw her turn the corner of her street and disappear.And with the warmth of that passionate little hand still stinging his palm, he almost ran towards Hyde Park.
Taking no heed of direction, he launched himself into its dark space, deserted in this cold, homeless wind, that had little sound and no scent, travelling its remorseless road under the grey-black sky.