"You may be sure that I shall ask her as soon as I can hope that my doing so may give her more pleasure than pain. Remember, I have had all this out with her father. I have determined that I will wait till twelve months have passed since that wretched man perished."
On that afternoon before dinner he was alone with her in the library some minutes before they went up to dress for dinner. "I shall hardly see you to-morrow," he said, "as I must leave this at half-past eight. I breakfast at eight. I don't suppose any one will be down except my mother."
"I am generally as early as that. I will come down and see you start."
"I am so glad that you have been here, Emily."
"So am I. Everybody has been so good to me."
"It has been like old days,—almost."
"It will never quite be like old days again, I think. But I have been very glad to be here,—and at Wharton. I sometimes almost wish that I were never going back to London again,—only for papa."
"I like London myself."
"You! Yes, of course you like London. You have everything in life before you. You have things to do, and much to hope for. It is all beginning for you, Arthur."
"I am five years older than you are."