Pilbeam attended to his skins.
“I must go,” said Syson.
“Yes,” she replied.
“Then I give you ‘To our vast and varying fortunes.’ ” He lifted his hand in pledge.
“ ‘To our vast and varying fortunes,’ ” she answered gravely, and speaking in cold tones.
“Arthur!” she said.
The keeper pretended not to hear. Syson, watching keenly, began to smile. The woman drew herself up.
“Arthur!” she said again, with a curious upward inflection, which warned the two men that her soul was trembling on a dangerous crisis.
The keeper slowly put down his tool and came to her.
“Yes,” he said.
“I wanted to introduce you,” she said, trembling.
“I’ve met him a’ready,” said the keeper.
“Have you? It is Addy, Mr. Syson, whom you know about.—This is Arthur, Mr. Pilbeam,” she added, turning to Syson. The latter held out his hand to the keeper, and they shook hands in silence.
“I’m glad to have met you,” said Syson. “We drop our correspondence, Hilda?”
“Why need we?” she asked.
The two men stood at a loss.
“Is there no need?” said Syson.
Still she was silent.
“It is as you will,” she said.
They went all three together down the gloomy path.
