“Suppose I were to see you every day for five days,” he said, with an affectation of amusement, “what good would that do you?”
“You shall see,” she said, reviving somewhat; “I promise you, you shall be astonished.”
“Pleasantly astonished?” he asked. He determined to treat her in a fatherly, indulgent way, as a spoilt child.
“You will see,” she said, nodding her head. “But,”—she seized his hand in hers in a familiar, innocent way which took his breath away for the moment—“you promise?”
“Promise! What?” he asked, uneasily. Something in the clinging touch of those slender fingers moved him deeply, recalled—what? Sensations long passed and gone, almost forgotten; sensations that stirred his heart to feel the pain of loss.
“Promise to accept the invitations you will receive this week,” she said.
“But where?” he asked.
“Here, to Lady Forwood, to Lady Boisville,” she said.
“Nowhere else?” he asked, gazing wonderingly into her upturned eyes. Had there ever been such beautiful dark eyes in this world before? He believed not. In any case, if such existed, he had never seen them.
“Nowhere else,” she said, earnestly.