"No; go now! We shall meet again—perhaps—soon."
"Yes, yes!" he responded, catching at the slightest straw of encouragement, like a drowning man. "I won't hurry you, or harass you, Margaret! I will try and be gentle with you. I will be a changed man from now. You shall see. But you will let me come again soon? You will meet me here to-morrow, Margaret?" he added, anxiously.
"The—the day after," she faltered. "Good-bye!"
He took her hand and held it to his lips, then she drew it away, and seemed to vanish from his sight.
At twenty paces she stopped, however, and holding up the hand he had kissed and pressed against his heart, she looked at it with a curious look, then laid her lips where his had touched it.
Poor Margaret!
[CHAPTER X.]
Austin Ambrose had chambers in the Albany. He was not a rich man, as he had remarked, but the rooms were comfortably, even luxuriously furnished, and the taste displayed in their ornamentation and decoration was of the best. There were good pictures, rare china, and bronzes, that, if not priceless, were curious enough to be reckoned as valuable.
How Mr. Austin Ambrose lived was a mystery, just as he himself was somewhat of a mystery. He was supposed to have a small income, and he was known to play an admirable hand at whist, and to wield a remarkably good cue at billiards.