to you; an ancient and wonderfully amiable one, I should say,' observed Alfred, with a sickly attempt at levity. 'I wish you were under his wing, my dear!'
Gladys made a respondent effort, an infinitely harder one. 'No, thanks,' she said; 'not me!'
'Come, I say! Is it nervousness or vanity?'
'It is neither.'
'Yet you look nervous, Gladdie, joking apart—and, honestly, I never felt less like joking in my life. And you are pale, my darling; and your hand is so cold!'
She withdrew the hand.
But one more minute was left. 'Better get out, sir,' said the guard, 'and I'll lock the lady in.'
Gladys felt a shiver pass through her entire frame. With a supreme effort she controlled herself. They kissed and clasped hands. Then Alfred stepped down heavily on to the platform.
The minute was a long one; these minutes always are. It was an age in passing, a flash to look back upon. These minutes are among
