"I am not so lonely in that house as you might think," he said, with a ghastly contraction of the lips and a shudder.
"But you see no one now. You have no company, and even at its best and brightest it was a dismal old barracks. Suppose, Henry, I live with you?"
He looked up suddenly, fiercely, and cried in a loud voice:
"No, no; you must not think of that. That is the last thing likely to happen. How could you think of such a thing?"
His head, his head was clearly gone. Fancy his resisting such an offer from her in such a passionate, ill-tempered way.
"Then come and live with me; the isolation of that house is preying upon you."
He had dropped his head once more to its old position.
"I am not so much alone there as you might suppose."
"I thought you saw nobody lately."
"But I am often, when at home now, in the company of Bee in her better days."