"I was sorry to her that you were ill to-day, from Mrs. Wragge," said
the captain, unconsciously dropping his voice almost to a whisper as he
spoke.
"It doesn't matter," she answered quietly, out of the darkness. "I am
strong enough to suffer, and live. Other girls in my place would have
been happier--they would have suffered, and died. It doesn't matter; it
will be all the same a hundred years hence. Is he coming again tomorrow
morning at seven o'clock?"
"He is coming, if you feel no objection to it."
"I have no objection to make; I have done with objecting. But I should
like to have the time altered. I don't look my best in the early
morning---I have bad nights, and I rise haggard and worn. Write him a
note this evening, and tell him to come at twelve o'clock."
"Twelve is rather late, under the circumstances, for you to be seen out
walking."
"I have no intention of walking. Let him be shown into the parlor--"
Her voice died away in silence before she ended the sentence.
"Yes?" said Captain Wragge.
"And leave me alone in the parlor to receive him."
"I understand," said the captain. "An admirable idea. I'll be out of the
way in the dining-room while he is here, and you can come and tell me
about it when he has gone.
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