CHAPTER XXII—THE FEAR OF KNOWLEDGEThe journey back to London was like the waking moments of a dream. He gazed out of the carriage window. He couldn’t bear to look at Hal; his eyes seemed dead, as though all the mind behind them was full of darkened passages. It wasn’t easy to be brave just now, so he turned his face away from him.
“Teddy.” There was no one in the carriage but themselves. “Did she ever say anything about me?”
“She said that you were fond of her.”
“Ah, yes, but I don’t mean that. Did she ever say how she felt herself?”
“About you?”
“About me.”
There was hunger in Hal’s voice—hunger in the way he listened for the answer.
“Not—not exactly. But she liked you immensely. She really did, Hal. She looked forward most awfully to your coming.”
“Any child would have done that
