” “And I,” Ennison said, holding her fingers tightly, and forcing her to look into his eyes, “I will tell you what I have wished for you when we meet six months from to-day. Your aunt and I have discussed all this matter. 82 She was putting a manuscript away, gingerly locking its heavy tooled cover, but it was a huge, awkward tome. It’s the poor dears who do, who know they will, know they can’t keep it up, who need to clutch at way-side flowers. ’ I don’t know what you’d call it —a sort of witchery, almost suggestiveness. “What’s odd?” “Oh, everything!” She shivered, and went to the fire and poked it. She admired and rather pitied him, and she was unfeignedly grateful to him. He had been gone entirely one day, for yesterday afternoon he had departed from Remenham House, and she had waited with patience like a saint, and now it was again the afternoon. Her skin prickled.
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