“Follow me,” said Roberts authoritatively, and took his place in front of her in the gangway. There he waited, meekly and like everybody else, until the people in front should have moved. But to Elsie there was masculinity in the shelter of his narrow, drooping shoulders, as he stood before her in his crumpled light overcoat, every now and then shifting from one foot to the other. She followed him step by step, pulling her hair into place under the tam-o’-shanter, and settling it at its customary rakish angle. It was no longer raining, and a watery moon showed through a haze. They dawdled as soon as they were out of the crowd, with linked arms and clasped hands. “Swear you’ll write to me, Elsie.” “All right.” “Lordy, to think of all we might have done together these three months I’ve been here, and I’ve never had more than a word with you here and there!” “I was at school all the time, till last week.” “You aren’t going back to school again?” “No, that’s over, praise be! I’m supposed to be taking up typing and shorthand, some time, though there’s plenty for two of us to do at home, _I_ should have said.” The faint reverberations of a church clock striking came to them. “Goodness, that’s never eleven o’clock striking! Well, you will get me into a row and no mistake!” She began to run, but stopped under a lamp just before No. 15 was in sight. He had kept pace with her high-heeled, uneven steps easily, and stopped beside her. “Say good-night to me properly, then.” “How, properly? Good-night, Mr. Roberts, and thank you ever so much. Oh, and _bonne voyage_ to-morrow, in case I don’t see you. Will that do?” “No, it won’t. I want a kiss.” “You don’t want much, do you?” she began half-heartedly, and looking up and down the street as she spoke. It was empty but for themselves. Roberts caught hold of her and kissed her with violence. Unresisting, Elsie put back her head and closed her eyes. “Kiss me--you _shall_ kiss me,” he gasped. At the sense of constriction that came upon her with the tightened grasp of his arms, Elsie gave a fluttering, strangled scream and began to struggle. “Let me go! You’re hurting me!” He loosened his hold so abruptly that she nearly fell down. She began to hurry towards home, moving with the ugly, jerking gait peculiar to women who walk from the knees. “Shall I see you to-morrow before I go?” His voice sounded oddly humble and crestfallen. “I’ll come to the drawing-room for a minute--no one’s ever there in the mornings.” “What time, Elsie? I ought to be off at nine.” “Oh, before that some time, I expect. I say, you’ve got your key, haven’t you?” A sharp misgiving assailed her as he began to fumble in his pockets. “Yes, all right.” He put it into the lock.