�Wyant looked at her steadily; he was very sorry for her.
�I can�t, Miss Lombard,� he said at length.
�You can�t?�
�I�m sorry; I must seem cruel; but consider—�
He was stopped by the futility of the word: as well ask a hunted rabbit to pause in its dash for a hole!
Wyant took her hand; it was cold and nerveless.
�I will serve you in any way I can; but you must see that this way is impossible. Can�t I talk to you again? Perhaps—�
�Oh,� she cried, starting up, �there he comes!�
Doctor Lombard�s step sounded in the passage.
Wyant held her fast. �Tell me one thing: he won�t let you sell the picture?�