This is what I came to tell you,
although I have been a long time about it. Now I must go.'
She rose, gathered her belongings from the table, and stood with the
parasol pressed against her. Wentworth came around to where she was
standing, his face paler than usual, probably because of the news he had
heard. One hand was grasped tightly around one wrist in front of him. He
felt that he should thank her for what she had done, but his lips were
dry, and, somehow, the proper words were not at his command.
She, holding her fragile lace-fringed parasol against her with one arm,
was adjusting her long neatly fitting glove, which she had removed before
tea. A button, one of many, was difficult to fasten, and as she
endeavoured to put it in its place, her sleeve fell away, showing a round
white arm above the glove.
'You see,' she said, a little breathlessly, her eyes upon her glove, 'it
is a very serious situation, and time is of immense importance.'
'I realize that.'
'It would be such a pity to lose everything now, when you have had so
much trouble and worry.'
'It would.'
'And I think that whatever is done should be done quickly. You should act
at once and with energy.'
'I am convinced that is so.'
'Of course it is. You are of too trusting a nature; you should be more
suspicious, then you wouldn't be tricked as you have been.'
'No. The trouble is I have been too sceptical, but that is past. I won't
be again.'
'What are you talking about?' she said, looking quickly up at him.
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