She had a right to break with him. She had promised nothing.
"I think," said Nick, when he had learned that the McCloud was to be
"hitched" to a train, in the afternoon, "I'd better be getting on. I might
as well say good-bye to you all now." When he shook hands with Mrs. May,
Falconer and Sonia Dobieski turned aside a little, speaking to each other.
"I hope you understand, Mr. Hilliard, and don't think I'm being rude after
all your kindness," Angela said, melting a little; "I could hardly refuse
them, when it was a question of chaperoning a newly engaged couple; and I
thought you would join us, of course."
This concession gave Nick an unexpected chance. He dared to hope that it
was an olive branch held out. "Did you really think that?" he asked
quickly, in a low voice.
"Certainly. Why not?"
"Oh, I don't know! That's the trouble. But--if you did think it, maybe
you'll let me see you again--maybe this won't be good-bye for always?"
"Dear me, I hope not, indeed!" she answered in a light, frivolous tone
again. "We're sure to meet. You come to San Francisco sometimes I've heard
you say. I shall be there--oh, ages."
"You'll let me call?" Nick was faintly--very faintly--encouraged, not to
hope for much, but for a very little; for a chance to retrieve some of the
ground he had lost in a night; to begin low down, and work up.
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