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We had better take it for
granted. My father is as obstinate as they make 'em. Well now, dear
Beryl, have you--have you thought it over?'
He pointed to a seat, and sat down by her. The brightness of his
look had passed away. The thin, intellectual face and lined brow had
resumed the expression that was familiar to Beryl. It was an
expression of fatigue--not physical now, for he had clearly
recovered his health, but moral; as though the man behind it were
worn out by some hidden debate with his own mind, into which he fell
perpetually, when left to himself. It was the look which divided him
from her.
'Yes,' she said slowly, 'I've been thinking a great deal.' She
stopped; then lifting her eyes, which were grey and fringed with
dark lashes--beautiful eyes, timid yet passionately honest--she
said, 'You'd better give me up, Aubrey!'
He made a restless movement, then took her hands and raised them to
his lips.
'I don't feel like it!' he said, smiling. 'Tell me what you mean.'
She looked down, plucking at the fringed belt of her sports coat.


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