"An unprejudiced onlooker might say that you have made me very
welcome."

"Mr. Winton! Is that generous?"

"No; perhaps it is hardly just. Because I counted the cost and have
paid the price open-eyed. You may remember that I told you that first
evening I should come as often as I dared. I knew then, what I have
known all along: that it was a part of your uncle's plan to delay my
work."

"His and mine, you mean; only you are too kind--or not quite brave
enough--to say so."

"Yours? Never! If I could believe you capable of such a thing--"

"You may believe it," she broke in. "It was I who suggested it."

He drew a deep breath, and she heard his teeth come together with a
click. It was enough to try the faith of the loyalest lover: it tried
his sorely. Yet he scarcely needed her low-voiced, "Don't you despise
me as I deserve, now?" to make him love her all the more.

"Indeed, I don't. Resentment and love can hardly find room in the same
heart at the same time, and I have said that I love you," he rejoined
quickly.

She went silent at that, and when she spoke again the listening
Jastrow tuned his ear afresh to lose no word.