wailed. But she added with more firmness: "I can still hope—and I can still pray."
He set free again with a joyous gesture all his confidence. "Well, what more could you do, anyhow? So isn't that enough?"
It took her a moment to say, and even then she didn't. "Is it enough for you, Mr. Crimble?"
"What is enough for me"—he could for his part readily name it—"is the harm done you at our last meeting by my irruption; so that if you got his consent to see me———"
"I didn't get his consent!"—she had turned away from the searching eyes, but she faced them again to rectify: "I see you against his express command."
"Ah then thank God I came!"—it was like a bland breath on a feu de joie: he flamed so much higher.
"Thank God you've come, yes—for my deplorable exposure." And to justify her name for it before he could protest, "I offered him here not to see you," she rigorously explained.
"'Offered him'?"—Hugh did drop for it. "Not to see me—ever again?"
