“I was glad you did not send it back again,” he said. She felt her own body stir, ready for more. After all, what did it matter?—it or anything else in the world? She was within reach of his arms, beautiful, compelling, herself as it seemed suddenly conscious of the light which was burning in his eyes. “I gave your name. ” They were in the elder Widgett girl’s bedroom; Hetty was laid up, she said, with a sprained ankle, and a miscellaneous party was gossiping away her tedium. Her cheeks were aflame. He walked hastily to the side of the broad pavement and summoned a fiacre.
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