"None will ever be half so worthy; or—I will say it, Alice, in spite of your warning hand—half so loved."
"Gerard," sinking her voice, "she has waited for you."
"Nonsense," he rejoined.
"She has. When she shall be your wife, you may tell her that I saw it and said it. She might have had John Cust."
"My darling——"
"Stay, Gerard," she gravely interrupted; "those words of endearment are not for me. Can you deny that you love her?"
"Perhaps I do—in a degree. Next to yourself——"
"Put me out of your thoughts whilst we speak. If I were—where I may perhaps soon be, would she not be dearer to you than any one on earth? Would you not be well pleased to make her your wife?"
"Yes, I might be."
"That is enough, Gerard. Frances——"