'I was so afraid I might not find you at home,' he said, half apologetically, 'so I thought I might as well walk this way. I knew this was your church. I've brought you the play we were talking about.'
'You're very kind, but I hope you don't think I read French comedies on Sundays?'
'Of course not; only Sunday is my leisure day, and I thought you would not shut your door upon me even on Sunday.'
The church was only five minutes' walk from Cavendish Row. When Sir Nugent's door was opened Mr. Penwyn followed Miss Bellingham into the house as a matter of course. She had no help for it but to go quietly upstairs to her fate. She almost knew what was coming. There had been something in his manner last night that told her it was very near.
'Prudence, courage,' she whispered to herself, and then, 'Viola!' The last word was a kind of charm.
The rooms looked bright and gay in the noontide sunlight, tempered by Spanish blinds. The flowers, the feminine prettiness scattered about, struck Churchill's eye, they gave such a look of home.
'If I could afford to give her as good a home as this!' he thought.
He shut the door carefully behind him, and glanced round the room to make sure they were alone, and went close to Madge as she stood by one of the small tables, fidgeting with the clasp of her prayer-book.
'I think you know why I came to-day,' he said.