from which he
had taken down his La Bruyere, and the worn arm of the chair he had
leaned against while she examined the precious volume. But then the wide
September light had filled the room, making it seem a part of the outer
world: now the shaded lamps and the warm hearth, detaching it from the
gathering darkness of the street, gave it a sweeter touch of intimacy.

Becoming gradually aware of the surprise under Selden's silence, Lily
turned to him and said simply: "I came to tell you that I was sorry for
the way we parted--for what I said to you that day at Mrs. Hatch's."

The words rose to her lips spontaneously. Even on her way up the stairs,
she had not thought of preparing a pretext for her visit, but she now
felt an intense longing to dispel the cloud of misunderstanding that hung
between them.

Selden returned her look with a smile. "I was sorry too that we should
have parted in that way; but I am not sure I didn't bring it on myself.
Luckily I had foreseen the risk I was taking----"

"So that you really didn't care----?" broke from her with a flash of her
old irony.

"So that I was prepared for the consequences," he corrected
good-humouredly. "But we'll talk of all this later. Do come and sit by
the fire. I can recommend that arm-chair, if you'll let me put a cushion
behind you."

While he spoke she had moved slowly to the middle of the room, and paused
near his writing-table, where the lamp, striking upward, cast exaggerated
shadows on the pallour of her delicately-hollowed face.

"You look tired--do sit down," he repeated gently.

She did not seem to hear the request. "I wanted you to know that I left
Mrs. Hatch immediately after I saw you," she said, as though continuing
her confession.

"Yes--yes; I know," he assented, with a rising tinge of embarrassment.

"And that I did so because you told me to. Before you came I had already
begun to see that it would be impossible to remain with her--for the
reasons you gave me; but I wouldn't admit it--I wouldn't let you see that
I understood what you meant."

"Ah, I might have trusted you to find your own way out--don't overwhelm
me with the sense of my officiousness!"

His light tone, in which, had her nerves been steadier, she would have
recognized the mere effort to bridge over an awkward moment, jarred on
her passionate desire to be understood. In her strange state of
extra-lucidity, which gave her the sense of being already at the heart of
the sit