"You may congratulate yourself on
lots of things, I'm sure."
Annoyance began to prick him; he showed spirit. "You are tired--and I may
have tired you. I won't do that any longer. I think I'll go, if you'll
excuse me to your Lady Maria. Sensible lady, that. She goes to sleep...."
He took a turn over the room, then came back and stood over her. "I have
not had my answer yet. I'll come for it in a few days' time. May I hope
you'll have it for me--say, to-day week?"
"What is the question I have to answer?" She looked up for it, though she
knew what it was to be quite well.
"Do you wish it repeated?" He was perfectly cool by now. "I'll put it
categorically. I have wronged you, and wish to repair my fault: will you
allow it? I love you more than before: will you permit me to prove it? I
believe that I can make you happy: may I try?"
She had scarcely listened, and when she answered him, did not lift her
head. "I can't answer you now, Nevile. Don't ask me."
"I have not asked you. I have simply put my questions fairly. I will come
for my answer next Sunday afternoon. Good-bye, Sanchia."
He held out his hand and received hers, which he kissed. Then he turned
and left her alone.
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