her she was aware of Mr. Royall, still leaning against the door, but
crestfallen, diminished, as though her silence were the answer he most
dreaded.

"I don't want any chance you can give me: I'm glad he's going away," she
said.

He kept his place a moment longer, his hand on the door-knob. "Charity!"
he pleaded. She made no answer, and he turned the knob and went out. She
heard him fumble with the latch of the front door, and saw him walk
down the steps. He passed out of the gate, and his figure, stooping and
heavy, receded slowly up the street.

For a while she remained where he had left her. She was still trembling
with the humiliation of his last words, which rang so loud in her ears
that it seemed as though they must echo through the village, proclaiming
her a creature to lend herself to such vile suggestions. Her shame
weighed on her like a physical oppression: the roof and walls seemed
to be closing in on her, and she was seized by the impulse to get away,
under the open sky, where there would be room to breathe. She went to
the front door, and as she did so Lucius Harney opened it.

He looked graver and less confident than usual, and for a moment or two
neither of them spoke. Then he held out his hand. "Are you going out?"
he asked. "May I come in?"

Her heart was beating so violently that she was afraid to speak, and
stood looking at him with tear-dilated eyes; then she became aware of
what her silence must betray, and said quickly: "Yes: come in."