Snow was falling slowly and through the snow-white veil they looked silently into each other’s eyes.
When Anne walked up the stairs she took Thomas’s kiss with her lips from her hand.
Next day she told her father all that had happened and when in the afternoon the front door bell rang Florian opened the door with a broad beaming face to Thomas Illey.
Anne heard his steps. The steps passed her door, along the corridor, towards the green room.
Thomas Illey spoke little. His voice was serious and firm. John Hubert listened to him standing and only offered him a seat when he had finished.
“An honourable proposal....” This reminded him that he had used the same words to Charles Münster. He laughed and then spoke out conscientiously, as he had decided beforehand. He spoke of the loss caused by the fire, of bad years of business. Of Anne’s dowry. His voice became feeble:
“I am very sorry but I cannot withdraw any capital from the business. The estate must remain undivided. This was decided by my late father. I cannot depart from this.”
Illey waved his hand politely, disparagingly.
“This is not my affair. It concerns Miss Anne alone.”
John Hubert stared at him with undisguised astonishment. The charm of the ancient name of Illey re-asserted itself on him: he no longer leaned back in his armchair. He sat straight up solemnly and felt sorry he had till now been so business-like.