Yet she went, telling herself that Laurie's grief was an excuse for
showing him a little marked friendliness. Besides, she would like to
ask him whether he was really going back to town on Thursday.

She tapped twice before an answer came; and then it seemed a rather
breathless voice which spoke.

The boy was sitting bolt upright on the edge of the sofa, with a
couple of candles at his side, and the book in his hands. There was a
strained and intensely interested look in his eyes.

"May I come in for a few minutes? It's nearly dressing time," she
said.

"Oh--er--certainly."

He got up, rather stiffly, still keeping his place in the book with
one finger, while she sat down. Then he too sat again, and there was
silence for a moment.

"Why, you're not smoking," she said.

"I forgot. I will now, if you don't mind!"

She saw his fingers tremble a little as he put out his hand to a box
of cigarettes at his side. But he put the book down, after looking at
the page.

She could keep her question in no longer.