Desmond. No! I am thinking of myself and you. What you
propose does not attract me at all. Marriage--in my view--wants
something--deeper--to build on than you suggest.'
'Inconsistent woman!' cried the inner voice, but Elizabeth silenced
it. She was not inconsistent. She would have resented love-making,
but _feeling_--something to gild the chain!--that she had certainly
expected. The absence of it humiliated her.
The Squire's countenance fell.
'Deeper?' he said, with a puzzled look. 'I wonder what you mean? I
haven't anything "deeper." There isn't anything "deep" about me.'
Was it true? Elizabeth suddenly recalled those midnight steps on the
night of Desmond's departure.
'You know,' he resumed, 'for you have worked with me now for six
months--you know at least what kind of a man I am. I assure you it's
at any rate no worse than that! And if I ever annoyed you too much,
why you could always keep me in order--by the mere threat of going
away! I could have cut my throat any day with pleasure during those
weeks you were absent!'
Again Elizabeth hid her face in her hands and laughed--rather
hysterically.
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