“Yes, but maybe later. CHAPTER XXXI. She leaned forward, her chin in her palms, her elbows on her knees, and she set her gaze upon his face and kept it there in dreamy contemplation. On that night,—that fatal night,—Winifred crushed all the hopes that were rising in my heart. She would come back and write letters, carefully planned and written letters, or read some book she had fetched from Mudie’s—she had invested a half-guinea with Mudie’s—or sit over her fire and think. Hobson, the Phys. He came to the door and as he opened it a crack, she pushed herself inside urgently. You were afraid of me, afraid that I should have been shocked, afraid of the scandal.
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