"You are going to give it to Elinor? I don't think there is anything to disapprove of in that. It is the most natural thing in the world."
"If I could be sure that Elinor would get any good by it," she said.
And then his face suddenly blazed up, so that the former flame in his eyes was nothing. He sat for a moment staring at her, and then he said, "Yes, if—but I suppose you take the risk." There were a great many things on his lips to say, but he said none of them, except hurriedly, "You have a motive, I suppose——"
"I have a motive—as futile probably as my act—if I could by that means, or any other, acquire an influence——"
John was very seldom, if ever, rude—it was not in his way—but at this moment he was so bitterly exasperated that he forgot his manners altogether. He burst out into a loud laugh, and then he jumped up to his feet and said, "Forgive me. I really have a dozen engagements. I can't stay. I'll see to having this business done for you as soon as possible. You would rather old Lynch had no hand in it? I'll get it done for you at once."
She followed him out to the door as if they had been in the country, and that the flowery cottage door, with the great world of down and sky outside, instead of Curzon Street: longing to say something that would still, at the last moment, gain her John's approval, or his understanding at least. But she could think of nothing to say. He had promised to manage it all for her: he had not reproached her; and yet not content with that she wanted to extort a favourable word from him before he should go. But she could not find a word to say. He it was only who spoke. He asked when she was going to return home, with his hand upon the street door.
"I don't know. I have not made any plans. The house is taken till July."
"And you have enjoyed it?" he said. "It has answered?"
What a cruel, cruel question to put to her! She going so unsuspectingly with him to the very door! Philip Compton's servant, always about when he was not wanted, spying about to see whom it was that "down-stairs" was letting out, came strolling into sight. Anyhow, whether that was the reason or not, she made him no reply. He caught her look—a look that said more than words—and turned round quickly and held out his hand. "I did not mean to be cruel," he said.
"Oh, no, no, no—you did not mean it—you were not cruel. The reverse—you are always so kind. Yes, it has answered—I am more glad than I can tell you—that I came."