CHAPTER XI.
‘I wept in my dream, for I fancied
That you had forsaken me;
I woke, and all night I lay weeping
Till morning, bitterly.’
Wyndham lifts his brows.
‘Pray do not distress yourself,’ says he. ‘It is a free country; you can speak or be silent, just as you wish. It had merely occurred to me that there might be friends of yours naturally very anxious about you, and that I might convey to them a message from you.’
The unsympathetic nature of his tone has restored the girl to her usual manner more than anything else could have done. She glances at him.
‘Friends!’ says she bitterly.
‘At all events,’ says Wyndham, who has now begun to acknowledge his curiosity with regard to her even to himself, and is determined on pushing the matter as far as possible, ‘there must be someone on the look-out for you.’