Mivanway rushed
up to her room, and locked herself in. Charles flew after her to
apologise, but only arrived in time to have the door slammed in his
face.
It had only been the merest touch. A boy's muscles move quicker
than his thoughts. But to Mivanway it was a blow. This was what
it had come to! This was the end of a man's love!
She spent half the night writing in the precious diary, with the
result that in the morning she came down feeling more bitter than
she had gone up. Charles had walked the streets of Newcastle all
night, and that had not done him any good. He met her with an
apology combined with an excuse, which was bad tactics. Mivanway,
of course, fastened upon the excuse, and the quarrel recommenced.
She mentioned that she hated him; he hinted that she had never
loved him, and she retorted that he had never loved her. Had there
been anybody by to knock their heads together and suggest
breakfast, the thing might have blown over, but the combined effect
of a sleepless night and an empty stomach upon each proved
disastrous. Their words came poisoned from their brains, and each
believed they meant what they said.
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