Owen looked at me in amazement, which is indeed hardly surprising. But suddenly my excitement passed, and I felt only a passion of home-sickness and regret. It swept over me like a heavy, resistless rush of water. All that was here around me grew black as night. I longed to get away from everything that could even remind me of my life of the past few months. I seemed to have a sudden bright light in which I saw myself clearly. In these few months I had deteriorated, the quality even of my love for Katherine had deteriorated; it had become less of the spirit, more of an obsession. And now, as I stood there before Owen, I seemed to hear the soft breaking of waves, infinitely peaceful, and I had a vision of my own bedroom, where I went to sleep, and wakened up, with the low sound of the sea in my ears. I said good-night hurriedly to the astonished Owen. I told him I was sorry for speaking as I had done, but that I would explain it all to him another time; only now I must go. I ran downstairs to the cloak-room, and a few minutes later left the house, without having said good-night to Mrs. Gill. * * * * * When I reached home I let myself in quietly with a latch-key, but as I was undressing George wakened up and began to ask me about the party. I did not feel in the least like going to sleep, and after I had got into bed we lay talking. Presently George got up and lit the gas, which I had turned out. I saw him go to the hiding-place he had shown me on the night of my arrival, and again take from it that mysterious bundle of photographs. He came over and sat down on the side of my bed. “I don’t want to see them,” I said, pushing him away; but he may have detected a note of weakness in my voice, for he only laughed. “Don’t be a fool,” he answered brutally. “I’m not going to do you any harm.” He drew them from the envelope and showed them to me, one by one, while the gas flamed and flared above our heads. CHAPTER XXIX Owen stepped back off the foot-board on to the platform. “Good-bye,” I said, leaning out of the carriage window. “There’s no use your waiting till the train starts. I hope you’ll have decent holidays.” He smiled. “I’m sure I will. I wish, all the same, you were going to be with me. I thought of it, but then I thought you would rather go home.” “Yes,” I said. “Wouldn’t you really? Don’t you want to go home?” “Yes, of course. Why do you ask?” “I don’t know. You don’t seem, perhaps, quite so keen as you were――――” Owen still waited, but I had taken my seat. “Well, I’ll see you again in a fortnight,” he went on, cheerfully. “Write to me, won’t you, if you aren’t too busy?” “Yes.” Another pause followed, while Owen looked up and down the platform. He seemed to me extraordinarily happy. “Well, good-bye again,” he said. “Good-bye.”