"Mother has telegraphed. She is coming out. She is on her way now. She will be here very soon."
Colville did not know exactly what to say to these passionately consecutive statements. "Well?" he said at last.
"Well"—she repeated his word—"what do you intend to do?"
"Intend to do in what event?" he asked, lifting his eyes for the first time to the eyes which he felt burning down upon him.
"If she should refuse?"
Again he could not command an instant answer, but when it came it was a fair one. "It isn't for me to say what I shall do," he replied gravely. "Or, if it is, I can only say that I will do whatever you wish."
"Do you wish nothing?"
"Nothing but your happiness."
"Nothing but my happiness!" she retorted. "What is my happiness to me? Have I ever sought it?"
"I can't say," he answered; "but if I did not think you would find it—"