“I don't know: it goes against me, somehow. Seems unmanly. I'll take your word for it.”
This charmed Grace. “Ah,” said she, “I have chosen right.”
Then he kissed her hands, and blessed her: and then she told him it was nothing; he was a goose, and had no idea what she would do for him; “more than you would do for me, I know,” said she.
That he denied, and then she said she might perhaps put him to the proof some day.
They were so happy together, time slipped away unheeded. It was full three hours before Henry could tear himself away, though he knew he was wanted at the works; and he went out at the gate, glowing with happiness: and Coventry, who was ready to drop with the fatigue of walking and watching just above, saw him come out triumphant.
Then it was his turn to feel a deadly qualm. However, he waited a little longer, and then made his call.
“Not at home.”
Henry, on his way to the works, looked in on his mother, and told her how nobly Grace had behaved.
Mrs. Little was pleased, and it smoothed down her maternal bristles, and made it much easier for her to carry out her design. For the first time since Mr. Carden had offended her by his cold-blooded treatment of her son, she called at Woodbine Villa.
Grace was at home to see her, and met her with a blushing timidity, and piteous, wistful looks, not easy to misunderstand nor to resist.