Quiet as it was, her tone left him no alternative but to treat
her brutally or to reply. Still looking out at the street, he
said "Yes."

"Free to marry, if you like?" she persisted.

He said "Yes" once more--and kept his face steadily turned away
from her. She waited a while. He neither moved nor spoke.

Surviving the slow death little by little of all her other
illusions, one last hope had lingered in her heart. It was killed
by that cruel look, fixed on the view of the street.

"I'll try to think of a place that we can go to at the seaside."
Having said those words she slowly moved away to the door, and
turned back, remembering the packet of letters. She took it up,
paused, and looked toward the window. The streets still
interested him. She left the room.



Chapter XXXII.


Miss Westerfield.


She locked the door of her bedchamber, and threw off her
walking-dress; light as it was, she felt as if it would stifle