Читать книгу Kitty - Warwick Deeping - Страница 28

Table of Contents

Through the April rain Alex St. George was carried towards Kitty. She was waiting for him there outside the booking-office, wearing the jade-green jumper and the little black hat of yesterday. Her right hand grasped the handle of a wet umbrella.

There was no holding back about Kitty. When he got out of the taxi she put her arms up round his neck and took and gave kisses. Who cared? This English railway station was a human place.

“Kitty,” he said, and that was all.

He felt desolate and he felt happy. When he had reserved a seat in the Pullman-car, they stood together on the crowded platform, contemplating each other, all eyes, but blind to all else. Scores of other men and women were equally blind. They saw nothing—perhaps—but one face.

“I’ll write every day,” said she. “I—know—you will be all right.”

“I shall. Have you got that photo?”

She had it in her little bag, and she gave it to him, and he tucked it away in a breast-pocket of his tunic.

“You’re there, Kitty. It makes me feel good.”

Her eyes had a burning solemnity, but they were tearless.

“Take your seats,” came the cry.

They clung together for a moment. He scrambled in, and hurried to his window. He managed to smile. She stood there with a white, grave face, sturdy and small, looking at him intently. The train moved off, and her white face seemed to glide away, those solemn and intent eyes smiling slightly.

St. George sat back in his seat.

“O, damn,” he thought, “I wish—.”

The train was full of such inarticulate wishes.