"It is one you may have. But—"
"Oh, I knew—my heart told me there was yet some fearful condition to come."
"You are wrong again. I only ask of you that you keep this meeting a secret."
"No, no, no—I cannot."
"Nay, what so easy?"
"I will not; I have no secrets from those I love."
"Indeed, you will find soon the expediency of a few at least; but if you will not, I cannot urge it longer. Do as your wayward woman's nature prompts you."
There was a slight, but a very slight, tone of aggravation in these words, and the manner in which they were uttered.
As he spoke, he moved from the door towards the window, which opened into a kitchen garden. Flora shrunk as far from him as possible, and for a few moments they regarded each other in silence.
"Young blood," said Varney, "mantles in your veins."