Depend upon it, there is a place for you—waiting. She fought him with tooth and nail. “Yes! I must! The thing is becoming a torture to me. D. The haste to send her upon her way now had but one interpretation—the recognition of his own immediate danger, the fear that if this tender association continued, he would end in offering her a calamity quite as impossible as that which had happened—the love of a man who was in all probability older than her father! The hurt was no less intensive because it was so ridiculous. It was denied him, for as he closed his eyes—though but for an instant—the whole scene of his former visit to the place rose before him.
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