She came closer to him, and laid her hand upon his arm, looking up at him with her magnificent eyes softened with womanly sympathy.
“I am so sorry! Can you not tell me what it is? Stay; where are you going?”
“To London,” he replied.
“To London!” She leaned over the balustrade, and looked at the great clock in the hall. “You have plenty of time. Stay one moment. Lord Cecil, do you remember the first night you came?”
“Yes,” he said, gravely.
A faint flush rose to her face.
“And all I said to you? Do you think I should have spoken to you as I did unless—unless I had liked you?”
“I appreciated your candor, Lady Grace,” he said, in the same grave tone.
Her hand trembled on his arm.
“Well, then, I am going to be still more candid. I am going to ask you to try and fancy that you had asked me to be your wife and that I had refused.”