me."

"And he, sitting out there, knows what you are saying."

"Most certainly not. He knows no more than that he has seen me
enter this room."

"I am glad of that, because I would not wish that he should be
disappointed. In this matter, my dear, I cannot do anything for
you."

"And that is your last answer, uncle?"

"Yes, indeed. When you come to think over this some twenty years
hence, you will know then that I am right, and that your request was
unreasonable.

"It may be so," she replied, "but I do not think it."

"It will be so. Such favours as you now ask are not granted in this
world for light reasons."

"Light reasons! Well, uncle, I have had my say, and will not take
up your time longer."

"Good-bye, my dear. I am sorry that I cannot oblige you;--that it
is quite out of my power to oblige you."

Then she went, giving him her hand as she parted from him; and he,
as she left the room looked anxiously at her, watching her