“But why were you in such a hurry?”

“It was my last chance of showing it to you.”

“Whatever do you mean, darling?”

She turned her face away.  Now it was quite dark.  “I’m really dreaming,” he thought, “and this is a sort of stage on which they can do lightning tricks like that.”  But there was no doubt about it being Uffdown.  All round the sky the pit-fires of the black-country were flickering out.  And though he couldn’t see her face, he could feel her soft hand in his.  “At any rate, I’ve written . . .” she said at last.

That was the sentence which he carried in his mind when he awoke.  A letter.  But she didn’t usually write to him before Sunday, and it was now only Saturday.  Yet, when he came into Hall p. 75for breakf. . . Read More