He was lucky enough, on this
southward journey, to get a compartment to himself; and here was an
excellent opportunity for him to have practised his _vocalises_; but it
was not of _vocalises_, nor of anything connected with the theatre, that
he was thinking. He was much franker with himself now. He no longer
tried to conceal from himself the cause of this vague unrest, this
useless looking back and longing, this curious downhearted sense of
solitariness. A new experience, truly, and a bewildering one! Indeed, he
was ashamed of his own folly. For what was it that he wanted? A mere
continuance of that friendly alliance and companionship which he had
enjoyed all this time? Was he indulging a sort of sentimental misery
simply because he could not walk down to the Aivron's banks and talk to
Miss Honnor and watch the sun tracing threads of gold among her tightly
braided hair? If that were all, he might get out at the next station,
make his way back to the beloved strath, and be sure that Honnor
Cunyngham would welcome him just as of old, and allow him to carry her
waterproof or ask him to have a cast over the Junction Pool. He had no
reason to fear any break in this friendship that had been formed.
Pages:
369
370
371
372
373
374
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391
392
393