But he stood in front of her.
"I should have thought you would have gone," she said.
"I wanted to see you again."
"And now?"
"I can't leave while you feel this way," he pleaded. "I can't abandon what I have of you—what you will let me take. If I told you I would be reasonable—"
"I don't believe in miracles," she said, recovering a little; "at least in modern ones. The question is, could you become reasonable?"
"As a last resort," he replied, with a flash of humour and a touch of hope. "If you would—commute my sentence."
She passed him, and picking up her skirts, paused in the window.
"I will give you one more chance," she said.
This was the conversation that, by repeating itself, filled the interval of her drive home. So oblivious was she to Howard's presence, that he called her twice from her corner of the carriage after the vehicle had stopped; and he halted her by seizing her arm as she was about to go up the stairs. She followed him mechanically into the drawing-room.