"You're resolved?" he asked, helping her into her blouse.
"Well, rather."
"I wish I might persuade you—your nerves were—a little shaken this morning."
She paused in the act of putting on her gauntlets and held one small bare hand under his nose that he might see how steady it was. He grasped it in both of his own and then, with an impulse that he couldn't explain, kissed it again and again.
"Don't go, child," he whispered gently. "Not today."
She struggled to withdraw her hand, a warm flush stealing up her neck and temples.
"Let me go, Mr. Markham. Let me go."
He relinquished her and stood aside.
"As you please," he muttered. "I'm sorry—"
She turned, halfway to the door and examined his face.