Mark and Irene saw Sophia off at the station.
‘You’ve been such an easy guest,’ said Irene, ‘and such fun. I do hope. . .’
‘I’ve had a divine time.’ Sophia hesitated, then she said, ‘I am so sorry to say goodbye to you, dearest Irene, dearest Mark.’ And she burst into tears, holding onto Irene as though she never wanted to let her go.
‘But you will see us soon in London, or here.’
‘Dearest Fia, you don’t need to cry so,’ said Mark. ‘Here, take my handkerchief.’
Still she clung to them. But whistles were blowing, doors were slamming, and at last she hurried onto the train. She waved and waved as the train set off. Mark and Irene walked slowly along the platform. They stopped, looked at one another in puzzlement.
‘That was rather extreme,’ said Mark. ‘It’s not as though she were going to the New World. Does she hate going home so much? She did seem rather distracted, didn’t you think?’ He took her arm and they hurried through the station.