A Strange World: A Novel. Volume 1 (of 3)

by M. E. Braddon

'Why not?'

'I saw your name in the paper, at Halifax, or somewhere, hundreds of miles away.'

'I was at Halifax the day before yesterday, but I would not miss my Saturday evening here. You see I have come a quarter of an hour in advance of your people, so that I might have you to myself for a few minutes.'

'It is so good of you,' faltered Madge, 'and you know I am always glad.'

'I should be wretched if I did not know it.'

This was going further than Mr. Penwyn's usual limits. The man was the very soul of prudence. No sweet words, no tender promises, had ever passed between these two, and yet they knew themselves beloved. Madge knew it to her sorrow, for she was fain to admit the wisdom of the dowager's warning. It would never do for her to marry Churchill Penwyn.

Happily for her, up to this time Churchill had never asked her to be his wife.

'He is too wise,' she said to herself, with the faintest touch of bitterness. 'Too much a man of the world.'

But that this man of the world loved her she was very sure.