Why had Guy looked at her so oddly?
Why had his welcome been so cold?
Could it be--could it be--that he was not pleased to see her, that--that--possibly he did not want her?
The dreadful chill went through her again like a sword thrusting at her heart, and with it went old Jeffcott's warning words: "Do you ever ask yourself what sort of man he may be after five years?
I'll warrant he's lived every minute of it.

He's the sort that would." She had felt no doubt then, nor ever since, until this moment.

And now--now it came upon her and overwhelmed her.

She glanced about her, almost as one seeking escape.
"I've fixed everything up.

Come along to the railway hotel! You must be pretty tired." He had returned to her, and he stood looking at her with those strangely keen eyes, almost as if he had never seen her before, she thought to herself desolately.
She looked bade at him with unconscious appeal in her own.