“Besides, appearances!” she mocked.
“Yes; or non-appearances, as at present,” he replied, unruffled. “If you’ll wait I’ll call a hansom.”
But she said she would go down with him; and after a glance at her frock, a traveling one, before the mirror, opened the door as he relit the lamp. He followed her along the dusk of the passage to show her the way, but she stopped abruptly on the edge of the stairs, throwing back her head so that it nearly struck him.
“Kiss me,” she whispered.
“No,” he said, quietly; “you’re not mine to kiss.”
She bent her right arm back with a quick movement behind his head, and drew his lips down to her face.
“Ah! if it were only a question of possession,” she sighed, as she pressed them to her own.
She turned on the stairs and looked back at him.
“You don’t resent it?” she inquired.
“Why should I?”