"Are you sure?" she returned with more concern in her voice than she suspected.
"Sure? If I don't keep my word I should fear to face your anger."
"I shouldn't be angry, only sorry."
"I'd rather have your anger than your pity. I might pacify the first but the second—while you are pitying me you might also despise me. I could never endure that."
His voice trembled with genuine emotion. Lavinia put out her hand and he caught it eagerly and raised it to his lips.
"You've made me happy," he cried, "you've given me fresh hope. I'll promise you all you've asked. You must promise me one thing in return. I can't lose sight of you. It would be eternal torment. When and where shall we meet?"
"I don't know. Perhaps not at all," said Lavinia slowly and lowering her eyes.
"Don't say that. I've told you why. Not at my miserable lodgings, I grant you, but at some other place. What say you to Rosamond's Pond?"
Lavinia darted him a swift glance. The ghost of a smile played about her lips.
"The Lovers' Walk of London! Oh, no."