There followed a silence which endured several minutes; or, rather a tableau. Here was not the individual against whom she had been warned. She followed Oxford Street into Holborn, and then she inquired for Chancery Lane. She began to look for beauty and discover it in unexpected aspects and places. “Well,” he said, argumentatively, “it IS. I want you to be my wife. ‘I do not mind to pray, no. Only a few, but enough for me to understand that some act had driven you to this part of the world, where the hunted hide. I want to give myself to you. ‘In love? I? Don’t be ridiculous. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.
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