Chapter Fifty Eight.
This Crisis.
By my advice, then, Linny said nothing to Hallett about where she was going, and as I had stayed at home from the works on purpose, we started in pretty good time for Westmouth Street, my companion’s flushed cheeks making her look extremely bright and pretty. She was terribly nervous though, and when we neared the door I feared that she would not muster up courage enough to enter.
“I feel as if I dare not meet her, Antony,” she faltered.
“What nonsense!” I said, smiling. “Why, she is gentleness and tenderness itself. Come, be a woman.”
“It is not that,” she whispered. “There is so much more behind. Take me back, Antony. Why does she want to see me?”
“I don’t know,” I replied; “but you may be sure that it is for some good purpose.”
“Do—do you think she will be angry with me—about—about, you know whom I mean? Do you think it is to reproach me?”
“I am sure it is not, Linny. Come, come, make an effort. I don’t know, but I feel sure it is to try and help poor Hallett.”