The beautiful city that she had been awed by and even grown to love had been abandoned. Anything in the least irregular is like poison to him. Afterward, one afternoon, he hovered about her, and came and sat beside her and talked of beauty and the riddle of beauty for some time. On the mantelpiece in front of her was a note addressed to her in Annabel’s handwriting. “Here’s something rather good,” he said, and with a start and an effort she took his place at the microscope, while he stood beside her and almost leaning over her. When the woollen-draper was nearly worn out, the Amazon watched her opportunity, and hitting him on the arm, disabled it. She was trying by some wonderful, secret, and motionless gymnastics to restrain her tears. He—wanted to marry me. I mean Miss Charvill no harm.
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