If she could not marry him, she would not marry any one. Are you now satisfied?" "No," interposed Wood, furiously, "I shall never be satisfied till I see you hanged on the highest gibbet at Tyburn. Lucy looked at her reflection with a measure of awe. Then she burst into a peal of laughter. 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. Stars appeared in the periphery of her vision. Then, when the tension was getting unendurable, and she was on the verge of speaking to some casual passer-by and demanding help, her follower vanished. The overnight nervous strain began to tell; she became inattentive to the work before her, and it did not get on. And yet—I love you. This was David Courtlaw, whose ways, too, had never been very different from the ways of other men as regards her sex.
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