"I make them still, those professions you scorn so deeply."
"Away, false man, lest the sleeper awaken!"
"You say there is no danger of that, and that in their coffins the dead are not more insensible."
"To see you kneeling at my feet might bring the dead even to life," she laughed, contemptuously. "I am sick of this drama; be natural for once. We can both afford to be so now."
"Do not spurn me, Evelyn! Never was my love for you so wild as now." I heard him kissing her hands passionately, and his voice, as he spoke these words, was choked with grief.
"O Claude, let my hand go; at least consider appearances. Mrs. Austin will be here in a moment now; what will she think of you? What am I to think of such caprice?"
"One word, then, Evelyn—tell me that you forgive me—on such conditions I will release your hands."
"When I forgive you, Claude, I shall be wholly indifferent to you," she said, gently. "Do you still claim forgiveness? I am not angry, though, take that assurance for all comfort. Then, if you will have it" (and I heard a kiss exchanged), "this confirmation."
"Then you are not wholly indifferent to me, Evelyn?" he said, in eager tones, "you care for me still—a little?"
"A very little, Claude"—hesitatingly.