How patient she had been with these last! He was actually beginning
to be ashamed of some of them. And now to-night--what made her come
and give him the extra pleasure of her company these two hours?
Sympathy, he supposed, about Desmond.
Well, he was grateful; and for the first time his heart reached out
for pity--almost humbled itself--accepted the human lot. If Desmond
were killed, he would never choose to go on living. Did she know
that? Was it because she guessed at the feelings he had always done
his best to hide that she had been so good to him that evening?
What as to that love-story of hers--her family?--her brother in
Mesopotamia? He began to feel a hundred curiosities about her, and a
strong wish to make life easy for her, as she had been making it
easy for him. But she was excessively proud and scrupulous--that he
had long since found out. No use offering to double her salary, now
that she had saved him all this money! His first advance in that
direction had merely offended her. The Squire thought vaguely of the
brother--no doubt a young lieutenant.
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