His eyes were bright, and his voice had in it an unaccustomed timbre. She laid her hand upon his arm. He had said so. We are alone and we can say and do what we please. Miss Miniver looked over her glasses at her friend almost balefully. She clenched her hands together and leaned forward in her chair, gazing steadily into the fire. The three clerks fought for the only window, and saw her whisked into a hansom. Yet she never once thought of changing it. Of what use was the temporary set-back to memory, when it always returned with redoubled poignancy? Then came another thought, astonishing. Can you wonder that I expect you to fulfil yours?” “I am not aware,” she answered, “that I have ever failed in doing so.
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