She jumped up briskly and put forth her hand to Miss Orbison. "Good-bye. If you ever do come to New York, remember, you've promised on your word of honour to let us know. Mr. Rennie"
"I'm going to be at the station," he said. "We'll say good-bye there."
"How lovely of you!" She turned to Orbison, and he took her extended hand in his cold long fingers. "Good-bye," she said cheerfully. "You've been absolutely sweet to Mother and me; I'm going to read Plato and everything. I hope you won't forget us quite."
"No," he murmured. "I'll never"
"You're lovely to say so," she said. "We won't forget you either. I never will, Mr. Orbison. Good-bye—and thank all of you for everything!"
Her cheeriness continued till the door had closed upon her and the continuously accompanying sound of half-laughter with which she expressed her high cordiality. But Rennie thought her voice had shaken a little when she said, "I never will, Mr. Orbison"; and Orbison himself, as he sank down upon his chair, had a disturbing impression that her hand had trembled within his loose and feeble clasp.
He sat staring out of the window, while his friend, watching him, thought the look upon his face the
