"Nothing new for me, you'll say.
But just for my satisfaction--because she hates me so--put your hand
in mine and swear you will seek her happiness before everything else
in the world. I shall never trouble you again after this fashion. I
have spoken."
Blake sat for several seconds without speaking. Then, as if impelled
thereto, he leaned slowly forward and laid his hand in Nick's. He
seemed to have something to say, but it did not come.
Nick waited.
"I swear," Blake said at length.
His voice was low, and he did not attempt to look Nick in the face,
but he obviously meant what he said.
And Nick seemed to be satisfied. In less than five seconds, he had
tossed the matter carelessly aside as one having no further concern in
it. But the memory of that interview was as a searing flame to Blake's
soul for long after.
For he knew that the man from whom Muriel had sought his protection
was more worthy of her than he, and his heart cried bitter shame upon
him for that knowledge.
It was with considerable difficulty that he responded to Nick's airy
nothings during the half-hour that followed, and the unusual alacrity
with which he seized upon his host's suggestion that he might care
to see the garden, testified to his relief at being released from the
obligation of doing so.
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