They were counting the days, he said, until she should return, but they did not wish to curtail her visit. They did not expect her next week, he knew.
Honora coloured again.
"I feel—that I ought to go to them," she said.
He glanced at her as though her determination to leave Silverdale so soon surprised him.
"They will be very happy to see you, Honora," he said. "They have been very lonesome."
She softened. Some unaccountable impulse prompted her to ask: "And you?
Have you missed me—a little?"
He did not answer, and she saw that he was profoundly affected. She laid a hand upon his arm.
"Oh, Peter, I didn't mean that," she cried. "I know you have. And I have missed you—terribly. It seems so strange seeing you here," she went on hurriedly. "There are so many' things I want to show you. Tell me how it happened hat you came on to New York."
"Somebody in the firm had to come," he said.
"In the firm!" she repeated. She did not grasp the full meaning of this change in his status, but she remembered that Uncle Tom had predicted it one day, and that it was an honour. "I never knew any one so secretive about their own affairs! Why didn't you write me you had been admitted to the firm? So you are a partner of Judge Brice."