“Oh, she must not intrude ...”
“No, no! she cannot come too often. Pray let me make a companion of her. She has completely won my heart. May she not walk with me sometimes? I promise to take as much care of her as if she were my own child.”
He had advanced a step and spoke eagerly, bending forward; but meeting her full eyes fixed on him with a little frown of mingled fear and amazement, he turned pale, fell back a step, and forcing a smile, said hurriedly:
“I am sometimes—sometimes laughed at for—for my love of children.”
She did not answer him for some moments, but stood watching him with a startled expression, suggesting both fascination and terror. Then she averted her eyes slowly, the colour went out of her cheeks, and she murmured something under her breath.
“You remind me of one who was very dear to me ... I beg your pardon ... there is often a strange resemblance in the tones of voices.”
She took the child’s hand, and was mechanically walking to the door.
“Me want dolly and horse,” said Nelly, holding back.
Holdsworth picked up the toys, and went into the passage to open the door. They bowed to each other, and Holdsworth returned to the sitting-room.