"Am I intruding?" he asked.
"We were thinking of you, and speaking of you," I replied, "just before you came in.""_We?_" he repeated, turning toward Susan once more. After a pause, he offered me his hand--and drew it back.
"You don't shake hands with me," he said.
"I am waiting, Rothsay, until I know that we are the same firm friends as ever."For the third time he looked at Susan.
"Will _you_ shake hands?" he asked.
She gave him her hand cordially. "May I stay here?" she said, addressing herself to me.
In my situation at that moment, I understood the generous purpose that animated her. But she had suffered enough already--I led her gently to the door. "It will be better," I whispered, "if you will wait downstairs in the library." She hesitated. "What will they say in the house?" she objected, thinking of the servants and of the humble position which she was still supposed to occupy. "It matters nothing what they say, now." I told her. She left us.
"There seems to be some private understanding between you,"Rothsay said, when we were alone.
"You shall hear what it is," I answered. "But I must beg you to excuse me if I speak first of myself.""Are you alluding to your health?"
"Yes."
