He certainly would call.

He would travel down to the idyllic Putney to-morrow.

He could not lose such a friend, such a balm, such a soft cushion, such a comprehending intelligence.

He would bit by bit become intimate with her, and perhaps ultimately he might arrive at the stage of being able to tell her who he was with some chance of being believed.

Anyhow, when he did call--and he insisted to himself that it should be extremely soon--he would try another plan with her; he would carefully decide beforehand just what to say and how to say it.