I’ll not be a minute.”

And before he could answer she was gone. He had half a mind to run after her; but instead he sat down again.

Would she really not be long? What was the time now? Out came the watch; he stared at nothing. That was rather queer of Janey, wasn’t it? Why couldn’t she have told the stewardess to say good-bye for her? Why did she have to go chasing after the ship’s doctor? She could have sent a note from the hotel even if the affair had been urgent. Urgent? Did it — could it mean that she had been ill on the voyage and she was keeping something from him? That was it! He seized his hat. He was going off to find that fellow and to wring the truth out of him at all costs. He thought he’d noticed just something. She was just a touch too calm — too steady. From the very first moment —

The curtains rang. Janey was back. He jumped to his feet.

“Janey, have you been ill on this voyage? You have!”

“Ill?” Her airy little voice mocked him. She stepped over the rugs, came up close, touched his breast, and looked up at him.

“Darling,” she said, “don’t frighten me. Of course I haven’t! Whatever makes you think I have? Do I look ill?”

But Hammond didn’t see her. He only felt that she was looking at him and that there was no need to worry about anything. She was here to look after things. It was all right. Everything was.

The gentle pressure of her hand was so calming that he put his over hers to hold it there. And she said:

“Stand still. I want to look at you. I haven’t seen you yet. You’ve had your beard beautifully trimmed, and you look — younger, I think, and decidedly thinner! Bachelor life agrees with you.”

“Agrees with me!” He groaned for love and caught her close again. And again, as always, he had the feeling he was holding something that never was quite his — his. Something too delicate, too precious, that would fly away once he let go.

“For God’s sake let’s get off to the hotel so that we can be by ourselves!” And he rang the bell hard for someone to look sharp with the luggage.

—

Walking down the wharf together she took his arm. He had her on his arm again. And the difference it made to get into the cab after Janey — to throw the red-and-yellow striped blanket round them both — to tell the driver to hurry because neither of them had had any tea. No more going without his tea or pouring out his own. She was back. He turned to her, squeezed her hand, and said gently, teasingly, in the “special” voice he had for her: “Glad to be home again, dearie?” She smiled; she didn’t even bother to answer, but gently she drew his hand away as they came to the brighter streets.

“We’ve got the best room in the hotel,” he said. “I wouldn’t be put off with another. And I asked the chambermaid to put in a bit of a fire in case you felt chilly. She’s a nice, attentive girl.