She looked at the bare flower-stalks in her hands rather remorsefully before she threw them away and returned to the house.
On their way to the station Malcolm occupied a seat next to the driver.
Now and then Elizabeth glanced up at the broad shoulders a little wistfully.

How silent he was, she did not once hear his voice! While they waited for the train, he and Harry Strickland paced up and down the platform.

The train was rather full, one or two strangers were in their compartment, and whether accidentally or by purpose, Malcolm was shut off from the rest of his party.
At Waterloo a silent hand-shake was all that passed between him and Elizabeth, and even to Dinah he said little; but as he drove off in the hansom, he told himself that he had done right, and that he did not regret a single word he had spoken.
It was far better for her to know the truth: he understood her so well--she was not dense, but she was wilfully blinding her eyes; very likely she was misled by his calm, matter-of-fact manner.
"She thinks I have got over it--that I have come to my senses, and accepted the inevitable--that we can be friends in the comfortable, approved fashion"-- here Malcolm's eyes flashed with sudden fire--"but she has found out her mistake.

No, there shall be no more deception.
When I see her again I shall wear my true colours--though Heaven forbid that I should persecute her with attentions that only embarrass and distress her.

No, you are safe with me, dear," he murmured inwardly; "but even for your sweet sake I will not act a lie.