"I thought so. Perhaps you Russians would consider it a mere nothing. The resuscitation was the most disagreeable part of it. Its shape now is something wonderful, but they tell me that with persevering applications of goose-grease, I shall soon recover."
"I have no doubt of it," he answered rather absently.
There was a pause, and I looked out to where the darkness was descending, and wished that I was at home in America.
George's voice broke in upon my meditations. "I have come here to-night at the risk of seeming presumptuous and making myself ridiculous. I know you generally put the worst construction on my actions." His tone became eager, and there was a strange appeal in it. "Try to think, for once, Miss Romilly, that there is a good motive which prompts me. If there is such a thing in your nature as trust and confidence in any one, exercise it now, and believe in me. I have not been unobservant, and it seems to me your happiness is largely involved in this matter."
Could this be George's voice? What could have so moved him? I wondered. A little pang shot through my heart at his words, and I clasped my fingers together tightly as he went on:—
"I saw Thurber this morning; he had just come from you. Of course I guessed what had occurred." He hesitated for a moment, as if reluctant to proceed; then, in a more conciliatory tone,—
"Would you mind telling me why you refused him?"
