"But is there no hope now?" He seemed to hesitate. She went on with, in her voice, a sudden tremor. "Consider! Think well before you speak! Reggie, I wonder if you know how much the spoiling of your life will mean the spoiling of mine?"
Her voice, or her manner, or her words--or all three combined--affected Mr. Townsend strangely. There seemed to be something in her glance which he found himself unable to encounter. He turned away. Going to him, she touched him softly on the arm. A shudder went all over him. The muscles of his face seemed to stiffen; his expression became a little set. His voice also became, as it were, a little rigid.
"There may be hope."
"There may be? Reggie!" She paused--as if breathless. "Of laying the ghosts--for ever?"
"For ever."
She was still again. Her articulation seemed to be actually impeded.
"When will you know--for sure?"
"This afternoon, at five."
"Reggie!" His words appeared to take her by surprise. "Do you mean it--really?"
"I do."