“I’m none too early. I shall have to walk fast,” she answered, looking down at Philip’s club-foot.
He turned scarlet.
“I beg your pardon. I won’t detain you.”
“You can please yourself.”
She went on, and he with a sinking heart made his way home to breakfast. He hated her. He knew he was a fool to bother about her; she was not the sort of woman who would ever care two straws for him, and she must look upon his deformity with distaste. He made up his mind that he would not go in to tea that afternoon, but, hating himself, he went. She nodded to him as he came in and smiled.