'Will you—'
He hesitated.
'May I leave you, Mr. Dagworthy?' Emily asked, seeing that he was not likely to quit her. She moved to take the books from the chair.
'One minute more.—Will you tell me who it is?—I am a brute to ask you, but—if you—Good God! How shall I bear this?'
He turned his back upon her; she saw him quiver. It was her impulse to walk from the garden, but she feared to pass him.
He faced her again. Yes, the man could suffer.
'Will you tell me who it is?' he groaned rather than spoke. 'You don't believe that I should speak of it? But I feel I could bear it better; I should know for certain it was no use hoping.'
Emily could not answer.
'It is some one in London?'
'Yes, Mr. Dagworthy, I cannot tell you more than that. Please do not ask more.'