'It is this. If your mother would not object, I should like to have my meals with you all, just as my uncle was wont. Having everything served in my room recalls my past with too great intensity. I have heard of a prisoner who had spent many years in the Bastille, that in after-life, when free, he could not endure to hear the clink of fireirons. It recalled to him his chains. If there be things at which my soul revolts it is steak, chops, cutlets.'
'Oh! it would indeed be a pleasure to us—such a pleasure!' and Salome's face told Philip that what she spoke she felt; the colour deepened in her cheeks, and the dimples formed at the corners of her mouth.
'And now,' she said, still with the smile on her face, playing about her lips; 'and now, Mr. Pennycomequick, you will not be angry if I ask you a favour.'
'I angry!'
'Must I enlist your sympathy first of all, and inveigle you into promising before you know what the request is I am about to make? I might tell you that a young girl like me has a little absurd pride in her, and that it is generous of a man to respect it, let it stand, and not knock it over.'
'What is the favour? I am too cautious—have been too long in a lawyer's office to undertake anything the particulars and nature of which I do not know.'
'It is this, Mr. Pennycomequick. I want you not to say another word about your kind and liberal offer to me. I will not accept it, not on any account, because I have no right to it. So that is granted.'
'Miss Cusworth, I will not hear of this.' Philip's face darkened, though not a muscle moved. 'Why do you ask this of me? What is the meaning of your refusal?'
'I will not take that to which I have no right,' she replied firmly.
'You have a right,' answered Philip, somewhat sharply. 'You know as well as I do that my uncle intended to provide for you, at least as he did for Mrs. Baynes. It was not his wish that you should be left without proper provision.'