” “I’ll wait, then. The open windows were above them now and, unless the intruder were to lean out, they could not possibly be seen. His pride, however, would not suffer him to interfere with their proceedings; much less could he bring himself to acknowledge that he had been in the wrong, and entreat Lady Trafford to remain, though he was well aware that her life might be endangered if she travelled by night. You would rather live like the scum of the earth, in that little brown hovel you call a house, in bourgeois paradise. " "When will you want me?"—with pitiful eagerness. It is no good waiving the thing; it is true. Or felt it.
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