To Journey Together

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Authors: Mary Burchell
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Why, then, should they have forced on them a departure which apparently neither of them wanted? It was all very odd.
    There must be very much more in the background of their lives than appeared on the surface,
    she supposed. And now she was never likely to know
    more about them, for tomorrow they would be gone.
    She tried to remind herself that she was lucky to
    have known them at all, that she was bound to meet
    and lose many delightful acquaintances on this trip.
     
    But none of this ready-made philosophy served her very well, and she felt unreasonably that there was nothing that she wanted quite so much as to know Rudi and Ilsa really well.
    For once Lady Connelton seemed to want her company for most of the evening. And, while Elinor very willingly acceded to the modest demands that her kind employer made upon her, she could not help noticing that the von Eibergs obviously went off for an evening's dancing, down at the big hotel.
    It would have been wonderful fun to have gone too. But this evening it was somehow impossible to make the suggestion. And tomorrow they would be gone.
    Elinor dined quietly with Sir Daniel and his wife, sat knitting and chatting with Lady Connelton in the lounge, and went to bed early. Just before undressing, she went and stood by the open window of her balcony and listened to the faint sound of dance music borne on the still air from the hotel further down the valley. She thought she could imagine the scene. He probably danced as well as he skated. "Ilsa too, of course," she added perfunctorily to herself. It was a pity—
    Well, it could not be helped. She undressed and went to bed, where she lay re-reading the batch of letters which had come from home that day.
    It must have been nearly an hour later, just as she was thinking of putting out her light, that a cautious tap sounded on her door.
    "Hello!" Elinor leaned up on her elbow. "Who's that?"
    "It's Ilsa. May I come in? Or are you more or less asleep?"
    "Come in! I'm wide awake," cried Elinor, who was indeed so all at once. And Ilsa came into the room.
    It was a rather pale, fatigued-looking Ilsa, however, and Elinor noticed at once that there was a long, wet smear all down her pretty bright red cape.
    "Why, Ilsa! What's happened?"
     
    "It was an accident—no, nothing terribly serious. But Rudi and I were knocked down by a car on our way back from the dance. It only grazed me, but Rudi's knee was hurt. Either a small bone broken or else a bad sprain. The doctor is having a look at him now. But, whichever it is, there's no journey for us tomorrow." Ilsa pushed back her hair from her forehead and laughed a little shakily. "We'll be here for some time longer."

CHAPTER FOUR
    "OH, ILSA, I am sorry! About the accident, I mean. I can't help being delighted, of course, that you are going to stay longer, after all," Elinor exclaimed frankly. Then, noticing how tired and shaken the other girl looked, she added, "Sit down, dear, and let me get you something."
    She was out of bed and reaching for her dressing-gown before Ilsa could make any protest. It was second nature to Elinor to look after people, and she took Ilsa's wet cloak from her, settled her in the most comfortable chair in the room and rang for hot coffee —Ilsa having rejected the suggestion of hot milk with a shudder.
    "Won't coffee keep you awake, rather than steady you?" Elinor suggested.
    "I don't care if it does. I shan't sleep for a while, anyway. Do you mind my staying here with you? I feel my own company isn't just what I want at the moment."
    "Of course you must stay! Unless you prefer to go to bed in your own room, that is, and have me come and sit with you."
    "No. I like it better here, thanks." Ilsa glanced round her almost curiously, and said with a sigh, "How restful your room is!"
    "Yes, it's lovely, isn't it? And by daylight I think I have the most beautiful view in the place," Elinor said.
    "It isn't that. Oh, it's a nice enough room, of course. Rather like my own, as

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