'When one loves anybody,' she said, sitting very upright and twisting her fingers together, 'one must stick to him!'
Dora started at the word 'love.' It seemed to her a profanation. She dried her eyes, and got up to go without another word.
'Well, Dora,' said Lucy, frowning, 'and so you'll do nothing for me—nothing?'
Dora stood a moment in a troubled silence. Then she turned, and took gentle hold of her cousin.
'If I get a chance, Lucy, I'll try and find out whether he's thinking of marrying at all. And if he isn't—and I'm sure he isn't—will you give it all up, and try and live comfortable with Uncle Purcell, and think of something else?'
Her eyes had a tender, nay a passionate entreaty in them.
'No!' said Lucy with energy; 'but I'll very likely drown myself in the river some fine night.'
Dora still held her, standing above her, and looking down at her, trying hard to read her true mind. Lucy bore it defiantly for a minute; then suddenly two large tears rose. A quiver passed over Dora's face; she kissed her cousin quickly, and went towards the door.
'And I'll find out what father's going to do, or my name isn't what it is!' said the girl behind her, in a shrill, shaking voice, as she closed the door.
Dora ran back to Market Place, filled with a presentiment that she was late, though the hand of the Cathedral clock was still far from three.