She put her hand in his to be squeezed. “And yet,” he said, “you bid me talk cheerfully, or not at all. “To be my eternal love. ‘I’ll make it, miss. Sit down, I command you. ‘Ain’t my place, I know that. Could you come to tea at my rooms one afternoon, or would you dine with me somewhere, and do a theatre? We could have a private room, of course, if you do not wish to be seen about London, and a box at the theatre. After what seemed like an eternity he turned right onto a dirt road that ended unceremoniously at a copse of leafless trees. Presently he felt motion. So far he had not stirred; from his bloodless lips had come no sound. His voice when he spoke was almost fiercely assertive, but there was an undernote of nervousness. You promise to become a first-rate workman. What would happen when next morning she returned to Morningside Park? He couldn’t turn her out of doors.
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