She posted it. Next morning she hurriedly dressed and ran downstairs in the sudden expectation of finding a letter from him; but there was none. Now he would have got hers.... Now he would have read it.... Now he would be walking to the station.... She heard the train steam out; and doubt and sorrow came like a cloud upon her; but only for a little while. In the cool of the evening she wandered down to the river and sat beside it dreaming. She dreamt happily of Jennifer. She would be able to love Jennifer peacefully now, think of her without that ache, see her again, perhaps, with all the old restlessness assuaged. Jennifer’s letter would surely come soon now.... If Roddy were to ask her to come away with him at once, for ever, she would take just the copper bowl from her table and spring to him, and leave all the rest of the past without a pang. Perhaps Roddy had written her a letter just before he had gone away; and if so it might have come by the evening post. She left the river and went to seek it. Who could it be coming towards her down the little pathway which led from the station to the bottom of the garden and then on to the blue gate in the wall of the garden next door? She stood still under the overhanging lilacs and may-trees, her heart pounding, her limbs melting. It was Roddy, in a white shirt and white flannels,--coming from the station. He caught sight of her, seemed to hesitate, came on till he was close to her; and she had the strangest feeling that he intended to pass right by her as if he did not see her.... What was the word for his face? Smooth: yes, smooth as a stone. She had never before noticed what a smooth face he had; but she could not see him clearly because of the beating of her pulses. ‘Roddy!’ He lifted his eyebrows. ‘Oh, hullo, Judith.’ ‘I thought you’d gone away.’ ‘I’m going to-morrow. A girl I know rang up this morning to suggest coming down for the day, so I waited. I’ve just seen her off.’ A girl he knew.... Roddy had always had this curious facility in the dealing of verbal wounds. ‘I see.... How nice.’ A face smooth and cold as a stone. Not the faintest expression in it. Had he bidden the girl he knew good-bye with a face like this? No, it had certainly been twinkling and teasing then. ‘Well, I must get on.’ He looked up the path as if meditating immediate escape; then said, without looking at her, and in a frozen voice: ‘I got a letter from you this morning.’ ‘Oh, you did get it?’ There could never have been a more foolish-sounding bleat. In the ensuing silence she added feebly: ‘Shall you--answer it--some time?’ ‘I thought the best thing I could do was to leave it unanswered.’ ‘Oh....’ Because of course it had been so improper, so altogether monstrous to write like that.... ‘Well,’ she said. ‘I thought.... I’m sorry.’ She ought to apologise to him, because he had meant to go away without saying anything, and she had come on him unawares and spoilt his escape.