THE MORNING AFTER
277
"My darling," he repeated, and bent and kissed her hair.
Then in a torrent of words he told her everything. How he had come back to London to find her, how he had gone to the Ritz-Carlton expecting to see her, how he had tramped about the streets on the chance of encountering her, how he had pursued her to Folkestone and, finally, how he had welcomed the way out that he now shuddered to contemplate.
"My dear!" she said when he had finished. "Oh, my dear!"
