"Not until there are no more mysteries—or quarrels."
"Yet you will not let me try to clear them up."
"I want you to leave them in the hands of Providence—for my sake."
"It is hard!"
"But if you love me you will promise."
The cab was still waiting in the mist. Harry sprang into it, wild with unhidden grief, as one fresh from a death-bed. His perplexity was returning—his conscience was beginning to gnaw—yet one difficulty was solved.
He had promised.
A hansom stood at the curb below the flats; the porter was taking down the luggage; a lady and a gentleman were on the stairs.