"I did not hear you coming," he exclaimed.
"No, I am wearing light shoes," she answered. "But won't you sit down? Have you made all your arrangements? I don't want to begin to say what I wish if you will have to go away before I have finished."
"There is nothing to call me away now. Brennan has gone," he said, as he took the chair she indicated.
"Before I begin, I must ask you to forgive me for mentioning the subject at all," she said slowly.
She sat facing him and, up to that moment, had kept her eyes fixed on him; but as she ceased speaking she glanced aside until her head was bowed as it had been previously. He took advantage of the opportunity to give one quick look round. The chair in which he sat was so placed that the profile of the person occupying it was thrown by the light of the lamp directly upon the window-blind. The window faced the bush at the back of the bank.
He moved his chair until his shadow fell on the wall, but then the lamp was between her and himself, and he could not watch her face.
"I will take this chair," he said shortly, as he stepped to the one where she had been sitting when he first came to the room. From it he commanded not only a complete view of her, but also out of the window, for the blind, pulled down to the full extent, was slightly askew, and left a space between it and the window-pane. Through that space he could see across the yard to the fence running round the allotment, and beyond it to the dark line of the bush, rendered the darker at the moment by the soft sheen of the rising moon showing above it.
A silence followed his movement, a silence during which she fidgeted uneasily and impatiently.
"You do not answer," she said presently. "Shall I go on?"
"I am waiting for you to do so," he replied.