"Oh no, it doesn't. I quite understand it. A passing smile or a parting sigh is sometimes more precious than any other memory. I know all about it, you know—looks, glances, smiles, sighs, and all that sort of thing, you know."
"Well, now, old chap, there's one thing I want you to do for me."
"Well, what is it?"
"It isn't much, old fellow. It isn't much. I simply wish you to visit there."
"Me?—visit there? What! me—and visit? Why, my dear fellow, don't you know how I hate such bother?"
"I know all about that; but, old boy, it's only for a few weeks I ask it, and for my sake, as a particular favor. I put it in that light."
"Oh, well, really, dear boy, if you put it in that light, you know, of course, that I'll do any thing, even if it comes to letting myself be bored to death."
"Just a visit a day or so."
"A visit a day!" Hawbury looked aghast.
"It isn't much to ask, you know," continued Dacres. "You see my reason is this: I can't go there myself, as you see, but I hunger to hear about her. I should like to hear how she looks, and what she says, and whether she thinks of me."