He was sinking
that, as he would have said himself; and indeed he might safely
leave it to the memory of any interlocutor, especially of one to
whom he was offering his hand. Isabel had prayed that she might not be
agitated, and her mind was tranquil enough, even while she listened
and asked herself what it was best she should say, to indulge in
this incidental criticism. What she should say, had she asked herself?
Her foremost wish was to say something if possible not less kind
than what he had said to her. His words had carried perfect conviction
with them; she felt she did, all so mysteriously, matter to him. "I
thank you more than I can say for your offer," she returned at last.
"It does me great honour."
"Ah, don't say that!" he broke out. "I was afraid you'd say
something like that. I don't see what you've to do with that sort of
thing. I don't see why you should thank me- it's I who ought to
thank you for listening to me: a man you know so little coming down to
you with such a thumper! Of course it's a great question; I must
tell you that I'd rather ask it than have it to answer myself. But the
way you've listened- or at least your having listened at all- gives me
some hope.
Pages:
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188