“You are mistaken, David. I have counted you, and always hoped to count you, the best of my friends. But I do not love you. I do not love any one.”
“I don’t believe it,” he answered hoarsely. “We have come too close together for me to believe it. You care for me a little, I know. I will teach you how to make that little sufficient.”
“You came to tell me this?”
“I came for you,” he declared fiercely.
The hansom sped through the crowded streets. Anna suddenly leaned forward and looked around her.
“We are not going the right way,” she exclaimed.
“You are coming my way,” Courtlaw answered. “Anna,” he pleaded, “be merciful. You care for me just a little, I know. You are alone in the world, you have no one save yourself to consider. Come back with me to-night. Your old rooms are there, if you choose. I kept them on myself till the sight of your empty chair and the chill loneliness of it all nearly sent me mad.”
Anna lifted her hand and pushed open the trap door.
“Drive to 13, Montague Street, cabman,” she ordered.
The man pulled up his horse grumbling, and turned round. Courtlaw sat with folded arms. He said nothing.