Kingdom Lost by Patricia Wentworth

more than a passionate, wounded child. He found himself kissing her, her hair, her neck. Her face was hidden.
    â€œVal—don’t cry! Why are you crying? You haven’t got anything to cry for.” He kissed her angrily, desperately. “Why should you cry? You don’t care!”
    She raised her head, panting, choking.
    â€œI hate you—I hate you! I do care!”
    â€œYou don’t. You’ll go away and forget me.”
    â€œNo, I won’t!”
    â€œYou’ll have to.” He pushed her away from him. “I don’t think it’ll be very hard for you. But whether it’s hard or easy, you’ll have to do it.”
    â€œWhy?” said Valentine on a shaken breath.
    â€œBecause you must. I’ve no money.”
    â€œBut you said—Barclay said—I would have lots of money.”
    â€œAnd you think I’m the sort of swab who marries for money?”
    â€œNot for money—for me.”
    â€œNot for you, or for anyone else. I’ll marry when I’m making enough to keep a wife, and not before.”
    Valentine threw up her head.
    â€œI don’t want to marry you—I don’t want to marry anyone! I never said I wanted to marry you. Oh, I didn’t !”
    â€œIt’s just as well,” said Austin in his roughest voice.
    He heard her catch her breath on a sob; her hands went to her breast. She said “Unkind!” in a voice that he had not heard before; there was wonder in it, as if she had not thought that he would strike her like that.
    â€œWhat’s the good of talking?”
    â€œWhy did you kiss me? You did kiss me. Why?”
    â€œBecause I lost my head.”
    â€œYou oughtn’t to kiss me if you’re not fond of me. Why did you?”
    â€œI tell you I lost my head. I shan’t do it again. You won’t be bothered with me any more after to-morrow.”
    Valentine’s hands dropped.
    â€œWon’t you come and see me?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œOr write?”
    â€œWhat on earth’s the use?”
    She came a step nearer.
    â€œWhy are you being so horrid? I want to write to you and tell you all about everything. What’s the good of anything if I haven’t got anyone to write to about it? You said I could write to you.”
    â€œI didn’t.”
    â€œOh, you did! You said it only a week ago. You said that you were going to be in London, and that you were going to be secretary to your cousin who is in Parliament. And you said we would write to each other—you did , Austin!”
    â€œI was a fool.”
    She came nearer still.
    â€œAustin—aren’t you a little bit fond of me?”
    â€œI’m fool enough to be in love with you, if that’s what you mean.”
    She clapped her hands.
    â€œReally? Truly? ”
    He did not answer.
    â€œAustin—”
    â€œThat’s enough,” said Austin in a choked voice.
    â€œAustin—”
    He turned and strode away, knocking over one of the deck chairs as he went.
    Dinner was not a very lively meal. It was obvious that Valentine had been crying, and that Austin Muir was wrapped in gloom. Neither of them ate very much, and at the first possible moment Austin disappeared, to be seen no more that evening.
    â€œWell, well,” said Barclay. He sipped his coffee. Then, “Master Austin’s in a fit of the sulks—eh?”
    Valentine sat with her elbows on the table and said nothing. She had been happy; and suddenly all the happiness had gone, just as the light used to go on the island when the sun went down—it was light, and then it was dark. She had been happy; and now she didn’t feel as if she were ever going to be happy again. She looked up at Barclay with eyes that hurt him.
    â€œWhat’s the matter, kid?”
    â€œHe’s unkind.”
    â€œAustin? Well, my dear, I shouldn’t let that keep you awake at night.”
    â€œIt doesn’t,”