Finally, however, he rose and put photographs, rose, and card away.
“I’ve not allowed myself to yield to it,” he said (which was a whopper) “till I was sure she was what I could always love. Now I shall do my best to make her love me.”
CHAPTER XLIV.
A GOOD DAY.
The next day it was raining torrents, but despite this, and to the utter neglect of his law business, Peter drove up-town immediately after lunch, to the house in Fifty-seventh Street. He asked for Watts, but while he was waiting for the return of the servant, he heard a light foot-step, and turning, he found Leonore fussing over some flowers. At the same moment she became conscious of his presence.
“Good-day,” said Peter.
“It isn’t a good day at all,” said Leonore, in a disconsolate voice, holding out her hand nevertheless.
“Why not?”
“It’s a horrid day, and I’m in disgrace.”
“For what?”