No; clearly the only sensible thing to do was to end all the talk and
quibbling at once, definitely. Carlisle took a step forward over the dim
chequered floor, resolute as her mother.

"I can't add anything to what I've already said. I cannot let you detain
me any longer."

Her advance had brought her fully into what light there was, falling
mistily through lattice and door. And at the look in her eyes, young Dr.
Vivian's hands fell dead without a struggle at his sides. His tall
figure seemed mysteriously to shrink and collapse inside his clothes. He
said, oddly, nothing whatever. Yet an hour's oration could not have
conveyed more convincingly his sense of irreparable disaster.

The instantaneous cessation of his verbal flow curiously piqued the
girl's attention. Face to face as they stood, she was struck quite
sharply with an elusive something that seemed to cling to this man's
look, a subtle enveloping wistfulness which she had vaguely noticed
about him before, which somehow seemed, indeed, only the sum of all that
she had noticed about him before. It may have been this look that
briefly checked her withdrawal. An odd desire to justify herself
somewhat more clearly fluttered and stirred within her. Or--who can
say?--perhaps this was no more than the beautiful woman's undying desire
to appear at advantage before every man, however far beneath her.

"You--you must not think me unfeeling," she said in a sweet hurried
voice. "I want to be as considerate as possible. I am terribly sorry for
him--terribly--and you must tell him so, from me. But I--I am in a
peculiar position. I am not free to--"