Again their eyes met; but, as though the contact of glances embarrassed her, Enid looked away.
"Yes, I do hate it. Do you despise me for being so selfish—so jealous of those other people who will take our place?"
For a moment the Prophet made no reply. In the dim light of the room, the muscles of his hard face looked set; his strong hands were clasped.
"Do you despise me?" she asked again.
"It is not for me to judge any one—you least of all," he answered, without looking at her.
At the subdued tone, the unexpected words, she turned to him apprehensively.
"You are angry with me?"
"Indeed, no."
"Then what is it? What have I done—or said?"
He remained silent.