dullness.




CHAPTER VIII.

I Find that I Care.


For a moment I stood stock still, wishing to Heaven that I had not opened
the door; for I could find now no excuse for my intrusion, and no reason
why I should not have minded my own business. The impulse that had made
the thing done was exhausted in the doing of it. Retreat became my sole
object; and, drawing back, I pulled the door after me. But I had given
Fortune a handle--very literally; for the handle of the door grated loud
as I turned it. Despairing of escape, I stood still. Marie Delhasse looked
up with a start.

"Who's there?" she cried in frightened tones, hastily pressing her
handkerchief to her eyes.

There was no help for it. I stepped inside, saying:

"I'm ashamed to say that I am."

I deserved and expected an outburst of indignation. My surprise was great
when she sank against the back of the chair with a sigh of relief. I
lingered awkwardly just inside the threshold.