She clutched at his arm; then drew herself up, and said in her clear, clipped voice:
“Oh! I suppose she hates me, then!”
“She is terribly unhappy.”
They walked a minute, that might have been an hour, without a word; not round the Square, as he had walked with Oliver, but away from the house. At last she said in a half-choked voice: “I only want a little bit of you.”
And he answered dully: “In love, there are no little bits—no standing still.”
Then, suddenly, he felt her hand in his, the fingers lacing, twining restlessly amongst his own; and again the half-choked voice said:
“But you WILL let me see you sometimes! You must!”
Hardest of all to stand against was this pathetic, clinging, frightened child. And, not knowing very clearly what he said, he murmured:
“Yes—yes; it'll be all right. Be brave—you must be brave, Nell. It'll all come right.”
But she only answered: