Her fingers suddenly met his and stayed passive in his grasp. She
turned a little around as she realised the nearness of him.

"Jane," he whispered, "I have wanted you so much."

For a single moment she rested in his arms,--a wonderful moment,
inexplicable, voluptuous, stirring him to the very depths. Then she
slipped away. Her fingers sought the wall once more and the place was
flooded with light.

"You must come in here for a moment," she said, opening the nearest
door. "I shall not ask you to share my milk, and I am afraid I don't
know where to get you a whisky and soda, but you can light a cigarette
and just tell me how things are and when you are coming to see me."

He followed her into a comfortable little apartment, furnished in
mid-Victorian fashion, but with an easy-chair drawn up to the brightly
burning fire. On a table near was a glass of milk and some biscuits.
The ermine cloak slipped from her shoulders. She stood with one foot
upon the fender, half turned towards him. His eyes rested upon her,
filled with a great hunger.

"Well?" she queried.

"You are wonderful," he murmured.

She laughed and for a moment her eyes fell.

"But, my dear man," she said, "I don't want compliments. I want to know
the news."