"No," he said absently, "I suppose not. Yes, just my name and the regiment and Allagherry, which will be our headquarters. You might, if you were _very_ amiable--you might write to Galles--a letter overland would wait for me there," for it was the days of "long sea" for all troops to India. Anne returned to her former position on the hearthrug--the moment at the table had restored her courage. "We shall see," she said, smiling again. Then Kenneth said once more, "I _must_ go;" but he lingered still a moment. "You must have caught cold, Anne, or else you are very tired. You are so white," and from his height above her, though Anne herself was tall, he laid his hand on her shoulder gently and as a brother might have done, and looked down at her pale face half inquiringly. A flush of colour rose for an instant to her cheeks. The temptation was strong upon her to throw off that calmly caressing hand, but she resisted it, and looked up bravely with a light almost of defiance in her eyes. "I am perfectly well, I assure you. But perhaps I am a little tired. I suppose it is getting late." And Kenneth stifled a sigh of scarcely realised disappointment, and quickly drew back his hand. "Yes, it is late. I am very thoughtless. Good-bye then, Anne. God bless you." And before she had time to answer he was gone. Ambrose met him in the hall, with well-meaning officiousness bringing forward his coat and hat. His presence helped to dissipate an impulse which seized Major Graham to rush upstairs again for one other word of farewell. Had he done so what would he have found? Anne sobbing--sobbing with the terrible intensity of a self-contained nature once the strain is withdrawn--sobbing in the bitterness of her grief and the cruelty of her mortification, with but one consolation. "At least he does not despise me. I hid it well," she whispered to herself. And Kenneth Graham, as he drove away in his cab, repeated to himself, "She is _so_ cold, this evening particularly. And yet, can it be that it was to hide any other feeling? If I thought so--good God!" and he half started up as if to call to the driver, but sat down again. "No, no, I must not be a fool. I could not stand a repulse from _her_--I could never see her again. Better not risk it. And then I am so poor!" And in the bustle and hurry of his departure he tried to forget the wild fancy which for a moment had disturbed him. He sailed the next day. But the few weeks which followed passed heavily for Anne. It was a dead time of year--there was no special necessity for her exerting herself to throw off the overwhelming depression, and strong and brave as she was, she allowed herself, to some extent, to yield to it.