“Well, good-bye,” he said suddenly; “I must never see you again, I suppose, Miss Swancourt, in spite of invitations.”
His genuine tribulation played directly upon the delicate chords of her nature. She could afford to forgive him for a concealment or two. Moreover, the shyness which would not allow him to look her in the face lent bravery to her own eyes and tongue.
“Oh, DO come again, Mr. Smith!” she said prettily.
“I should delight in it; but it will be better if I do not.”
“Why?”
“Certain circumstances in connection with me make it undesirable. Not on my account; on yours.”
“Goodness! As if anything in connection with you could hurt me,” she said with serene supremacy; but seeing that this plan of treatment was inappropriate, she tuned a smaller note. “Ah, I know why you will not come. You don’t want to. You’ll go home to London and to all the stirring people there, and will never want to see us any more!”
“You know I have no such reason.”
“And go on writing letters to the lady you are engaged to, just as before.”
“What does that mean? I am not engaged.”