of the head. "It's a little difficult to explain," the young man apologized.
"We hadn't understood, I think, either of us very much.... We'd just been friendly—and liked each other. And so it went on even when I was training. And then when I found I had to go out—I'm going out a little earlier than I expected—I thought suddenly I wouldn't ever go to Cambridge again at all perhaps—and there was something in one of her letters.... I thought of it a lot, Sir, I thought it all over, and I thought it wasn't right for me to do anything and I didn't do anything until this morning. And then I sort of had to telegraph. I know it was frightful cheek and bad form and all that, Sir. It is. It would be worse if she wasn't different—I mean, Sir, if she was just an ordinary girl.... But I had a sort of feeling—just wanting to see her. I don't suppose you've ever felt anything, Sir, as I felt I wanted to see her—and just hear her speak to me...."
He glanced across Scrope at Eleanor. It was as if he justified himself to them both.
Scrope glanced furtively at his daughter who was leaning forward with tender eyes on her lover, and his heart went out to her. But his manner remained judicial.
"All this is very sudden," he said.
"Or you would have heard all about it, Sir," said young Riverton. "It's just the hurry that has made this seem furtive. All that there is between us, Sir, is just the two
