“The past sometimes hurts,” she said. “But the present is healing it.”
Again their talk languished, strangely lacking spontaneity. The breath of a new influence was hovering round them. At last Hugh rose to go.
“You look so tired that I won’t keep you up any longer. God bless you for what you have said this evening.”
She turned her head aside quickly and began to tremble a little. He could see the flush rising on the sweet contours of her temples, and losing itself in the shadow of her hair. “Then you did understand?” she murmured.
“Yes. But it was the angel and not the woman that spoke,” he said rather huskily. “Besides, I could never ask you for what I did not feel myself free to accept.”
She turned and faced him, looking him bravely in the eyes, while the flush flamed into scarlet.
“You will never think—as other men might think——?”
Her insinuation flashed for the first time through his mind—that she was urging him to marry her for social reasons.
“Good God, no!” he said. “Don’t speak of it.”
A moment afterwards they parted, and Hugh rushed down the stairs with his temples buzzing.