Thornton, at this, looked away, with the smile of a man who is talking unintelligible things to a child.
Then followed a long conversation between Despard and Mrs. Thornton about religion, art, music, and a miscellaneous assemblage of other things, which lasted for a long time. At length he rose to go. Mrs. Thornton went to a side-table and took up a book.
“Here,” said she, “is the little book you lent me; I ought to have sent it, but I thought you would come for it.”
“And so I will,” said he, “some day.”
“Come for it to-morrow.”
“Will you be at home?”
{Illustration: “MRS. THORNTON, WALKING TO THE WINDOW, LOOKED OUT."}
“Yes.”
“Then of course I’ll come. And now I must tear myself away. Good-night!”
On the following day, at about two o’clock, Despard called again. Mrs. Thornton had been writing, and the desk was strewn with papers.