"What word?"
Although she is almost falling to the ground, and although she speaks in a whisper, as if the words were forced from her, he hears her.
"Say that you love me."
Bending forward it his eagerness, with his eyes fixed upon her drooping form, with his arms outstretched to receive her, he does not see that a door which communicates with an inner room is swiftly and softly opened. Emboldened by her silence, which he interprets favourably, he is approaching nearer to her exultantly, when he is put aside with a firm hand, and Old Wheels steps between him and her. His face turns white as he sees the old man, who regards him steadily.
"You were saying—" says Old Wheels gently.
Mr. Sheldrake bites his lips, and accepts the situation.
"That I love your granddaughter. I was about to ask her to be my wife."
Old Wheels, with his arms around Lily, kisses her, and strokes her hair fondly.
"My darling!" he murmurs. She hides her face on his breast. He directs his clear bright eyes to Mr. Sheldrake, whose own eyes shift and waver, and shrink, as falsehood shrinks in the light of truth. "I will answer for her, Mr. Sheldrake. She declines."
"What!" exclaims Mr. Sheldrake, a white fury gathering about his lips.