bitter anger on his face. She sat silent and forlorn, wondering what had become of her resolve and her inspiration.
"In my place you would feel as I do," he said a moment later. His tone was milder. "You can't deny it," he insisted. "Look me in the face and deny it if you can. I know you too well."
For some minutes longer she sat still. Then she got up with a desolate air. Everything seemed over; the great offer, with its great scene, had come to very little. Anticlimax, foe to emotion! She remembered how the scene in the Long Gallery had gone. So much better, so much better! But Harry dominated her—and he had stopped the scene. Without attempting to bid him any farewell she moved toward the door slowly and drearily.
She was arrested by his voice—a new voice, very good-natured, rather chaffing.
"Are you doing anything particular to-night?" he asked.
She turned round; he was smiling at her in an open but friendly amusement.
"No," she murmured. "I'm going back home, I suppose."
"To Blent?" he asked quickly.
"No, to our house. Mina's there and——" Her face was puzzled; she left her sentence unfinished.
"Well, I've got nothing to do. Let's have dinner and go somewhere together?"