“You, Mrs. Scorbitt!”
“Yes, my friend, after four weeks, four long weeks of separation—”
“Exactly twenty-eight days, five hours, forty-five minutes,” said Maston, looking at his watch.
“At last we meet!”
“But why, Mrs. Scorbitt? Why have they allowed you to come here?”
“To use whatever influence a boundless admiration may have on him who is its object!”
“What!” exclaimed J. T. Maston, “you have consented to talk thus to me! You have imagined that I would betray my colleagues?”
“Do you think so meanly of me? I to ask you to sacrifice your safety to your honour? I to urge you to an act which would be the disgrace of a life consecrated to the highest speculations of the higher mechanics?”
“Bravo, Mrs. Scorbitt! I recognize the worthy shareholder of our Association! Never did I doubt your courage!”
“Thank you, dear Maston.”