"John," she said from the threshold.
He was just seating himself at his desk, but he turned to her with an obvious effort at kindness which made the set look of his face the more marked.
She closed the door and went up to him.
"If you write that to Mr. Langhope—Dr. Wyant will—will tell him," she said.
"Yes—we must be prepared for that."
She was silent, and Amherst flung himself down on the leather ottoman against the wall. She stood before him, clasping and unclasping her hands in speechless distress.
"What would you have me do?" he asked at length, almost irritably.
"I only thought...he told me he would keep straight...if he only had a chance," she faltered out.
Amherst lifted his head slowly, and looked at her. "You mean—I am to do nothing? Is that it?"
She moved nearer to him with beseeching eyes. "I can't bear it.... I can't bear that others should come between us," she broke out passionately.