Next morning early, Dolly left Combe Neville on her way to London.
When she reached the station, Walter was on the platform with a
bunch of white roses. He handed them to her deferentially as she
took her seat in the third-class carriage; and so sobered was Dolly
by this great misfortune that she forgot even to feel a passing
pang of shame that Walter should see her travel in that humble
fashion. "Remember," he whispered in her ear, as the train steamed
out, "we are still engaged; I hold you to your promise."
And Dolly, blushing maidenly shame and distress, shook her head
decisively. "Not now," she answered. "I must wait till I know the
truth. It has always been kept from me. And now I WILL know it."
She had not slept that night. All the way up to London, she kept
turning her d
