“I never do wish to hear it, sir; but have the goodness to leave me.”
“I trust my next visit will find you better. Good-by, Miss Goodwin! I shall send your mother up.”
He withdrew very much after the etiquette of a subject leaving a crowned head—that is, nearly backwards; but when he came to the door he paused a moment, turning upon her one long, dark, inexplicable gaze, whilst the muscles of his hard, stony mouth were drawn back with a smile that contained in its expression a spirit that might be considered complacent, but which Alice interpreted as derisive and diabolical.
“Mamma,” said she, when her mother joined her, “I am ill, and I know not what to do.”
“I know you are not well, my love,” replied her mother, “but I hope you're not worse; how do you feel?”
“Quite feeble, utterly without strength, and dreadfully depressed and alarmed.”
“Alarmed, Alley! Why, what could alarm you? Does not Mr. Woodward always conduct himself as a gentleman?”
“He does, ma'am; but, nevertheless, I never wish to see him again.”