his thick, dirty shoes, and his weak, blinking eyes, and his mind always
set upon the one wish of his life, could not be made to present himself
to her in the guise of a lover. He was one of those men of whom women
become very fond with the fondness of friendship, but from whom young
women seem to be as far removed in the way of love as though they
belonged to some other species. "I will not press you further," said he,
"as I gather by your tone that it distresses you."

"I am so sorry if I distress you, but really, Mr. Saul, I could give
you--I never could give you any other answer."

Then they walked on silently through the rain--silently, without a
single word--for more than half a mile, till they reached the rectory
gate. Here it was necessary that they should, at any rate, speak to each
other, and for the last three hundred yards Fanny had been trying to
find the words which would be suitable. But he was the first to break
the silence. "Good-night, Miss Clavering," he said, stopping and putting
out his hand.

"Good-night, Mr. Saul."

"I hope that there may be no difference in our bearing to each other,
because of what I have to-day said to you?"

"Not on my part--that is, if you will forget it."

"No, Miss Clavering; I shall not forget it. If it had been a thing to be
forgotten, I should not have spoken. I certainly shall not forget it."

"You know what I mean, Mr. Saul."