"Oh, that's all right."
He passed out into the hall, but I called him back to the door. "Brother Washington, I didn't mean to be flippant when I said 'that's all right.' I respect your sincerity."
I thought that he glanced about for a place to rest the tray, to halt and resume his predetermined fight against the flesh and the devil of my unholy calling.
"Ah, shut the door, Brother Washington."
"I thought, Sir, that you had reconsidered—"
"Not to-day—some other time."
He looked at me, making no motion that I could see; but I heard the tremulous rattle of the teacup in the saucer. There was so much of pleading in his look, so much that was martyr-like in his silence, that out of pity it arose to my mind to call him back, but then came the cool though just decision that his ardent yearning was but a spirit of ambitious conquest.
"Some other time, Washington," I said, as he turned to look at me.