‘I never knew what a home could be like till I came here,’ says she. ‘Never, never! You have had one—all the world has had one except me. It means new life to me. Oh’—bitterly—‘it is the only life I have ever known—the only happiness. If, sir’—she comes towards him and with a little impulsive action holds out her hands—‘if I might stay——’
‘Well, you can,’ says he ungraciously.
He gives in so suddenly, and she is naturally so unprepared for so quick a surrender, that for a moment she says nothing. Her eyes are fixed on him, however, as if trying to read him through; they are beautiful eyes, and Wyndham, his professional instincts on the alert, finds himself wondering what lies behind them in that brain of hers.
‘Do you mean it?’ says she at last breathlessly; if you do, I cannot thank you enough. Oh, to stay here within these lovely walls!’ Instinctively she glances out of the window to the ivy-clad walls, as if in their protection she finds great comfort. A moment later a cloud gathers on her forehead. ‘But you don’t like me to stay,’ she says.
‘It doesn’t matter what I like,’ says Wyndham, who certainly does not shine on this occasion. ‘The arrangement we have come to now is that you are to rent this cottage from me, at what sum we can agree about later on.’
‘To rent it? I shall, then, be—— It’— she tries to hide the joy in her eyes, feeling it to be indecent—‘it will belong to me?’
‘Yes,’ says Wyndham. At this moment he feels very little more will make him positively hate her.
‘It will no longer be yours?’ Her voice is trembling.
‘In a sense, no.’ He turns and takes up his hat; this interview is getting too much for him. There will be an explosion shortly if she goes on like this.
‘It seems very selfish,’ says the girl. She is looking at him, though for the last three minutes he has refused to look at her. ‘I am taking your house away from you.’