"Watching! watching! Mr. Thorburn, I am sorry you ever took Elmore Court. Before you came, my privacy here was as sacred as though this garden had been cloisters."
"Have I violated it?"
"Of course you have. Have you not been watching me?"
"I must offer you no apology. If I desire to win your approbation, I must not cloud or varnish my meaning."
"It would not be worth while."
"So I will admit that I came here not only with the intention of seeing, but of speaking to you. Now is my crime very grave?"
"Are you beginning to feel dull?" she asked, eyeing me with embarrassing earnestness. "Are your beginning to grow weary of books and thoughts, and to discover that the most tiresome and indiscreet companion a man can choose is himself? If so, why do you not return to London? You must have the means to purchase the distractions which are called pleasures."
"Indeed"—I began.
"Or," she went on with odd imperturbability, "if you can't conveniently leave Elmore Court, there are, I believe, people here whom you might easily get to know. Why me, Mr. Thorburn? why me?" she exclaimed, with a little stamp of her foot.