"I don't know," said Tom, "what pleasure you find in that. It seems to me that as a gentleman—to say nothing of my being their friend—I must go back."
She made no retort to this, and he moved a step towards the door. Then he turned and glanced at her. She had dropped the screen and her eyes were fixed on the fire. He sighed, frowned, shrugged his shoulders, turned, and made for the door again. In another second he would have been gone, but Adela cried softly,
"Mr. Loring."
"Yes," he answered, coming to a halt.
"Stay where you are a minute. Will you stay there a minute?"
"An hour if you like," said Tom.
"I just want to say that—that—You're coming nearer!—I want you to stay just where you are."
Tom halted. He had, in fact, been coming slowly towards her.
"I suppose," said Adela, in quite an indifferent tone, "that you'll settle down with the Dennisons again?"
"I don't know. Yes; I suppose so."