On the present occasion John Eames seemed to be of this opinion, for he did not at once accept the invitation.
"Will you not oblige me so far as that?" said she softly.
"I would do anything to oblige you," said he gruffly; "almost anything."
"But not that?"
"No; not that. I could not do that." Then he went off upon his figure, and when they were next both standing together, they remained silent till their turn for dancing had again come. Why was it, that after that night Lily thought more of John Eames than ever she had thought before;—felt for him, I mean, a higher respect, as for a man who had a will of his own?
And in that quadrille Crofts and Bell had been dancing together, and they also had been talking of Lily's marriage. "A man may undergo what he likes for himself," he had said, "but he has no right to make a woman undergo poverty."
"Perhaps not," said Bell.
"That which is no suffering for a man,—which no man should think of for himself,—will make a hell on earth for a woman."
"I suppose it would," said Bell, answering him without a sign of feeling in her face or voice. But she took in every word that he spoke, and disputed their truth inwardly with all the strength of her heart and mind, and with the very vehemence of her soul. "As if a woman cannot bear more than a man!" she said to herself, as she walked the length of the room alone, when she had got herself free from the doctor's arm.