The carriage that is to convey him to the station is at the door, and he almost swears at the delay that arises from Tita's non-appearance.
Yet here--here is rest.

Here there is no one to breathe detestable congratulations into his ear--_no_ one.
A tall, slight figure rises from a couch that is half hidden by a Chinese screen.

She comes forward a step or two.

Her face is pale.
It is Marian Bethune.
"You!" says she in a low, strange voice.

"Have _you _come here, too, to _think ?"_ She speaks with difficulty.