Of course you do

　　"Of course you do. You and I, Miss Bryant, are of the gipsies of theworld. We are not vegetables like young Rooke here.""Eh, what?" said the vegetable, waking from a reverie. He had beenwatching Nelly's face. Its wistfulness attracted him.
　　"We are only happy," proceeded Uncle Chris, "when we are wandering.""You should see Uncle Chris wander to his club in the morning," saidJill. "He trudges off in a taxi, singing wild gipsy songs, absolutelydefying fatigue.""That," said Uncle Chris, "is a perfectly justified slur. I shudderat the depths to which prosperity has caused me to sink." He expandedhis chest. "I shall be a different man in America. America would makea different man of you, Freddie.""I'm all right, thanks!" said that easily satisfied young man.
　　Uncle Chris turned to Nelly, pointing dramatically.
　　"Young woman, go West! Return to your bracing home, and leave thisenervating London! You . . ."Nelly got up abruptly. She could endure no more.
　　"I believe I'll have to be going now," she said. "Bill misses me ifI'm away long. Good-bye. Thank you ever so much for what you did.""It was awfully kind of you to come round," said Jill.
　　"Good-bye, Major Selby.""Good-bye.""Good-bye, Mr Rooke."Freddie awoke from another reverie.
　　"Eh? Oh, I say, half a jiffy. I think I may as well be toddling alongmyself. About time I was getting back to dress for dinner and allthat. See you home, may I, and then I'll get a taxi at Victoria.
　　Toodle-oo, everybody."* * *Freddie escorted Nelly through the hall and opened the front door forher. The night was cool and cloudy, and there was still in the airthat odd, rejuvenating suggestion of Spring. A wet fragrance camefrom the dripping trees.
　　"Topping evening!" said Freddie conversationally.
　　"Yes."They walked through the square in silence. Freddie shot anappreciative glance at his companion. Freddie, as he would haveadmitted frankly, was not much of a lad for the modern girl. Themodern girl, he considered, was too dashed rowdy and exuberant for achappie of peaceful tastes. Now, this girl, on the other hand, hadall the earmarks of being something of a topper. She had a softvoice. Rummy accent and all that, but nevertheless a soft andpleasing voice. She was mild and unaggressive, and these werequalities which Freddie esteemed. Freddie, though this was a thing hewould not have admitted, was afraid of girls, the sort of girls hehad to take down to dinner and dance with and so forth. They were toodashed clever, and always seemed to be waiting for a chance to scoreoff a fellow. This one was not like that. Not a bit. She was gentleand quiet and what not.
　　It was at this point that it came home to him how remarkably quietshe was. She had not said a word for the last five minutes. He wasjust about to break the silence, when, as they passed under a streetlamp, he perceived that she was crying,--crying very softly toherself, like a child in the dark.
　　"Good God!" said Freddie, appalled. There were two things in lifewith which he felt totally unable to cope,--crying girls anddog-fights. The glimpse he had caught of Nelly's face froze him intoa speechlessness which lasted until they reached Daubeny Street andstopped at her door.