and looked searchingly into his face. Something in the tone rather than the words roused her quick sympathy. Woodhouse kept on:
"I am sorry I had to deny that former meeting just now—that meeting which has been with me in such vivid memory. I regret that were you to allude to it again I would have to deny it still more emphatically."
"I'm sure I shan't mention it again," the girl broke in shortly.
"Perhaps since it means so little to you—your silence—perhaps you will do me that favor, Miss Gerson."
"Certainly." Woodhouse could see that anger still tinged her speech.
"May I go further—and ask you to—promise?" A shadow of annoyance creased her brow, but she nodded.
"That is very good of you," he thanked her. "Shall you be long on the Rock?"
"No longer than I have to. I'm sailing on the first boat for the States," she answered.
"Then I am in luck—to-night." Woodhouse tried to speak easily, though Jane Gerson's attitude was distant. "Meeting you again—that's luck."
