him mad to think she was worrying about him. What earthly use was it to worry about another’s moods?
And now after racing recklessly about on the river he had conquered his mood. He had been more shaken by the story of those deaths in the snow than he had been about anything for years. What it had done to him he did not know, but it had given him a kind of melancholy exaltation, had put vivid pictures into his mind and a curious peace into his soul. And he had come back unable to think about it any more for the present.
As he stood there he began to think of Valerie as a warmth to blot out now the trouble of his recent days. He felt suddenly lonely for her. He had expected to find she had gone to bed, in which case he would not have disturbed her, but now that he had seen her light he wanted to feel her arms about him. He walked on past the front of the house and saw that her rooms were in darkness. But he knew she could not yet be asleep.
He stepped up to the verandah, raised the screen, and saw she was not in her cot.
“Valerie, where are you?” he called a little urgently.
“I’m undressing, here,” she answered from within. Her voice sounded ragged.
He vaulted over the railing, pushing back the light screen, and went to her window.
“Come here, dear. Why are you in the dark?”
Then she knew her assumptions had been wrong, and she was afraid he would suspect she had been worrying about him. She could not make her mood light all in a moment.
“Come here, Val,” he repeated. It was a tone that always gave her a little thrill.
She went to him as she was in her white lingerie, and he put his arms round her as he sat on the window ledge.
