As she hovered at the door before entering, she could watch him while he walked the whole room’s length away, and she felt a pang at sight of him.  If she could have believed that he loved her, she could not have faced him, but must have turned and run away; and even as it was she grieved for him.  Such a man would not have made up his mind to this step without a deep motive, if not a deep feeling.  Her heart had been softened so that she could not think of frustrating his ambition, if it were no better than that, without pity.  One man had made her feel very kindly toward all other men; she wished in the tender confusion of the moment that she need not reject her importunate suitor, whose importunity even she could not resent.

He caught sight of her as soon as he made his turn at the end of the room, and with a quick “Ah, Ah!” he hastened to meet her, with the smile in which there was certainly something attractive.  “You see I’ve come back a day sooner than I promised.  I haven’t the sort of turnout you’ve been used to, but I want you to drive with me.”  “I can’t drive with you, Dr. Mulbridge,” she faltered.

“Well, walk, then.  I should prefer to walk.”

“You must excuse me,” she answered, and remained standing before him.

“Sit down,” he bade her, and pushed up a chair towards her.  His audacity, if it had been a finer courage, would have been splendid, and as it was she helplessly obeyed him, as if she were his patient, and must do so.  “If I were superstitious I should say that you receive me ominously,” he said, fixing his gray eyes keenly upon her.

“I do!” she forced herself to reply.  “I wish you had not come.”

“That’s explicit, at any rate.  Have you thought it over?”

“No; I had no need to do that, I had fully resolved when I spoke yesterday.  Dr. Mulbridge, why didn’t you spare me this?  It’s unkind of you to insist, after what I said.  You know that I must hate to repeat it.  I do value you so highly in some ways that I blame you for obliging me to hurt you—­if it does hurt—­by telling you again that I don’t love you.”

He drew in a long breath, and set his teeth hard upon his lip.  “You may depend upon its hurting,” he said, “but I was glad to risk the pain, whatever it was, for the chance of getting you to reconsider.  I presume I’m not the conventional wooer.  I’m too old for it, and I’m too blunt and plain a man.  I’ve been thirty-five years making up my mind to ask you to marry me.  You’re the first woman, and you shall be the last.  You couldn’t suppose I was going to give you up for one no?”

“You had better.”

“Not for twenty!  I can understand very well how you never thought of me in this way; but there’s no reason why you shouldn’t.  Come, it’s a matter that we can reason about, like anything else.”

“No.  I told you, it’s something we can’t reason about.  Or yes, it is.  I will reason with you.  You say that you love me?”