“But why did you travel straight through?  You might have slept at Marseilles or Paris.”

“One of these days I will tell you about the gale.  I wonder I am not at the bottom of that treacherous sea; it did blow my poor old yacht about—­I thought it was her last cruise; and when we got to the hotel I was handed your father’s letter.  As I did not want to miss the concert, I came straight through.”

“You must be very fond of music.”

“Yes, I am....  Music can be heard anywhere, but your voice can only be heard at Dulwich.”

“Was it to hear me sing that you came back?”

She had spoken unawares, and felt that the question was a foolish one, and was trembling lest he should be inwardly laughing at her.  But the earnest expression into which his little grey eyes concentrated reassured her.  She seemed to lose herself a little, to drift into a sort of dream in which even he seemed to recede, and so intense and personal was her sensation that she could not follow his tale of adventure.  It was an effort to listen to it at that moment, and she said—­

“But you must be tired, you’ve not had a proper night’s sleep ... for a week.”

“I’m not very tired, I slept in the train, but I’m hungry.  I’ve not had anything since ten o’clock this morning.  There was no time to get anything at Victoria.  I was told that the next train for Dulwich started in five minutes.  I left my valet to take my trunks home; he will bring my evening clothes on here for the concert.  Can you let me have a room to dress in?”

“Of course; but you must have something to eat.”

“I thought of going round to the inn and having a chop.”

“We had a beefsteak pudding for dinner; I wonder if you could eat beefsteak pudding?”

“There’s nothing better.”

“Warmed up?”

“Yes, warmed up.”

“Then I may run and tell Margaret?”

“I shall be much obliged if you will.”

She liked to wait upon him, and her pleasure quickened when she handed him bread or poured out ale, making it foam in the glass, for refreshment after his long journey; and when she sat opposite, her eyes fixed on him, and he told her his tale of adventure, her happy flushed face reminded him of that exquisite promise, the pink almond blossom showing through the wintry wood.

“So you didn’t believe me when I said that it was to hear you sing that I came back?”

“That you renounced your trip round the world?”

“Yes, I renounced my trip round the world to hear you sing.”

She did not answer, and he put the question again.

“I can understand that there might be sufficient reason for your giving up your trip round the world.  I thought that perhaps—­no, I cannot say—­”

They had been thinking of each other, and had taken up their interest in each other at their last thoughts rather than at their last words.  She was more conscious of the reason of their sudden intimacy than he was, but he too felt that they had advanced a long way in their knowledge of each other, and their intuition was so much in advance of facts that they sat looking at each other embarrassed, their words unable to keep pace with their perceptions.