“And you are determined, then, that you will not return?”
“I thought I had told you as much in my letter,” she answered, a little piqued.
“That is true; but I hoped—perhaps you would alter your mind.”
“Never!” she said calmly and deliberately, and still with a certain hauteur.
“Very well then; if that is the case we shall not return to it. I am sorry if that is your decision, but I suppose you have considered everything?”
“Oh yes,” she said, and gave a little cough.
“Well, then I must propose something else; or rather—what do you think of doing when you have got rid of that wretched cough?”
Eline looked at him with some anxiety, and all her pride vanished.
“I have been thinking about it myself. I really don’t know. Perhaps I shall go and live by myself. I have a good many things of my own, and I can be economical. Then perhaps too I can get some one to stay with me.”
And in her fancy she already saw herself ensconced in a set of quaint little rooms something like those she occupied now, and her eyes filled with tears.