have a great and beautiful courage, he would somehow make everything up
to her. When the clock struck five she was on the very point of saying
to Mr. Buckton that she was deadly ill and rapidly getting worse. This
announcement was on her lips, and she had quite composed the pale hard
face she would offer him: "I can't stop--I must go home. If I feel
better, later on, I'll come back. I'm very sorry, but I _must_ go." At
that instant Captain Everard once more stood there, producing in her
agitated spirit, by his real presence, the strangest, quickest
revolution. He stopped her off without knowing it, and by the time he
had been a minute in the shop she felt herself saved.

That was from the first minute how she thought of it. There were again
other persons with whom she was occupied, and again the situation could
only be expressed by their silence. It was expressed, of a truth, in a
larger phrase than ever yet, for her eyes now spoke to him with a kind of
supplication. "Be quiet, be quiet!" they pleaded; and they saw his own
reply: "I'll do whatever you say; I won't even look at you--see, see!"
They kept conveying thus, with the friendliest liberality, that they
wouldn't look, quite positively wouldn't. What she was to see was that
he hovered at the other end of the counter, Mr. Buckton's end, and
surrendered himself again to that frustration. It quickly proved so
great indeed that what she was to see further was how he turned away
before he was attended to, and hung off, waiting, smoking, looking about
the shop; how he went over to Mr. Cocker's own counter and appeared to
price things, gave in fact presently two or three orders and put down
money, stood there a long time with his back to her, considerately
abstaining from any glance round to see if she were free. It at last
came to pass in this way that he had remained in the shop longer than she
had ever yet known to do, and that, nevertheless, when he did turn about
she could see him time himself--she was freshly taken up--and cross