"Mrs. Fielding, please, after to-day—give me the privilege of numbering myself among your friends!"
She looked at him oddly, seeking to cover her agitation with a quivering assumption of her old arrogance. But something in his face deterred her. It was not this man's way to solicit favours, and somehow, since he had humbled himself to ask, she had it not in her to refuse.
"Very well, Dick," she said, faintly smiling. "I grant you that."
"Thank you," he said, and gently released her hand.
It was the swiftest and one of the most complete victories of his life.
CHAPTER III
CONFESSION
It was nearly two hours later that Vera sitting alone before her fire turned with a slight start at the sound of her husband's step in the room beyond. She was wearing a pale silk dressing-gown and her hair hung in a single plait over her shoulder, giving her a curiously girlish look. The slimness of her figure as she leaned among the cushions accentuated the fragility which her recent illness had stamped upon her. Her eyes were ringed with purple, and they had a startled expression that the sound of the squire's step served to intensify. At the soft turning of the handle she made a movement that was almost of shrinking. And when he entered she looked up at him with a small pinched smile from which all pleasure was wholly absent.
He was still in evening dress, and the subdued light falling upon him gave him the look of a man still scarcely past his prime. He stood for a moment, erect and handsome, before he quietly closed the door behind him and moved forward.
"Still up?" he said.