His severe words of the
previous night still sat heavy upon her.
'I saw you from my window, Harry,' she said timidly.
'The dew will make your feet wet,' he observed, as one deaf.
'I don't mind it.'
'There is danger in getting wet feet.'
'Yes...Harry, what is the matter?'
'Oh, nothing. Shall I resume the serious conversation I had with
you last night? No, perhaps not; perhaps I had better not.'
'Oh, I cannot tell! How wretched it all is! Ah, I wish you were
your own dear self again, and had kissed me when I came up! Why
didn't you ask me for one? why don't you now?'
'Too free in manner by half,' he heard murmur the voice within
him.
'It was that hateful conversation last night,' she went on. 'Oh,
those words! Last night was a black night for me.'
'Kiss!--I hate that word! Don't talk of kissing, for God's sake! I
should think you might with advantage have shown tact enough to
keep back that word "kiss," considering those you have accepted.'
She became very pale, and a rigid and desolate charactery took
possession of her face. That face was so delicate and tender in
appearance now, that one could fancy the pressure of a finger upon
it would cause a livid spot.
Knight walked on, and Elfride with him, silent and unopposing. He
opened a gate, and they entered a path across a stubble-field.
'Perhaps I intrude upon you?' she said as he closed the gate.
'Shall I go away?'
'No.
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