“Come in,” said Barney, and he moved aside.
But Charlotte stood still. “I can say what I want to here,” she whispered, panting. “Barney.”
“Well, what is it, Charlotte?”
“Barney.”
Barney waited.
“I've come over here to-night, Barney, to see you,” said Charlotte, with solemn pauses between her words. “I don't know as I ought to; I don't know but I ought to have more pride. I thought at first I never—could—but afterwards I thought it was my duty. Barney, are you going to let—anything like this—come between us—forever?”
“There's no use talking, Charlotte.”
Charlotte's hooded figure stood before him stiff and straight. There was resolution in her carriage, and her pleading tone was grave and solemn.
“Barney,” she said again; and Barney waited, his pale face standing aloof in the dark.
“Barney, do you think it is right to let anything like this come between you and me, when we were almost husband and wife?”