The Argosy — page 125: what you’re looking at

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108 The White Witch. window as he heard a sound behind him, he found Mary with a glass of sherry and some sandwiches on a salver. “You did not touch anything at breakfast, Mr. Godfrey. You must eat these ; I cut them for you. And why don’t you smoke? That always makes you better-tempered.” ‘“To you mean to say that I’m ill-tempered ?” said he, taking the salver from her and drawing his hands over hers as he did so. ‘Certainly. You are the worst-tempered man I ever met.” ‘And don’t you like ill-tempered men ?” ‘‘Of course not. Nobody does. Come, I shall see you light your cigar before I go away again.” But she coolly took up his box of fusees herself and struck one; then, as he seized her other hand, she let the fusee fall on his fingers and burn them. “Oh, I am so sorry! I only wanted you to light a cigar. Please take one out.” He thought it better to obey without further demonstration, but he asked very quietly : ** Are you a true, loving woman ?—or a hard and deceitful one ?” “T don’t know. And it does not in the least concern you.” But when she reached the door she turned, and he saw that there were tears in her eyes. ‘‘ Whether I am woman, or fiend, or angel,” said she in a very low voice, ‘‘ for all the kindness and generosity that I have never thanked you for, I thank you now.’ Soon after that, in passing through the gallery, Godfrey heard sounds within Mrs. Mayne’s room; the mother talking fast in per- suasive tones, Mary sobbing bitterly. He could do nothing ; and, as an outlet to his feelings, he rushed off again to the farm. Nancy saw him this time. Mr. Cattermole was not down stairs yet, she said, but she could hear him getting up. ‘Was he out last night, Nancy?” he asked. ‘Quite late; past eleven?” ‘That he was not, Master Godfrey. He was tired, he said, and went to his room before ten o’clock.” Godfrey could not make it out. He stayed in the kitchen, talking to Nancy, who was slicing kidney beans for dinner, until Mr. Cattermole should be down. While there, Miss Dixon came to the house door and asked to see the lodger. She was shown into his parlour, and he came down to her. Godfrey, who would not show himself, sat in an agony of suspense. In about twenty minutes, during which not the faintest sound of voices in converse could be heard within it, the door opened; and, with a quiet ‘‘Good morning, Miss Dixon,” ‘‘Good morning, Mr. Cattermole,” they separated, It was now Godfrey’s turn, and he went in, The detective was looking glumpy, and told Godfrey, with every appearance of truth, that the young lady had prevailed upon him to let her slip through his fingers again, Gomicbooks.co