“Yes, Jolyon, please.”

“When shall you be going?”

“Tomorrow.”

“You won’t go back there in the meantime, will you?” This he said with an anxiety strange to himself.

“No; I’ve got all I want here.”

“You’ll send me your address?”

She put out her hand to him. “I feel you’re a rock.”

“Built on sand,” answered Jolyon, pressing her hand hard; “but it’s a pleasure to do anything, at any time, remember that. And if you change your mind⁠—! Come along, June; say goodbye.”

June came from the window and flung her arms round Irene.