His polite care not to embarrass her shut the door.
"I mean, just now," she resumed, "while our seat's so shaky, you know."
"Ah, yes," said he half-absently.
She leant back in her chair and looked at him.
"I think," she said, "you look as if you did care, about Mr. Blair or
about something else. I wanted to tell you that I don't agree in the
least with the criticisms on you." She leant forward, asking in a lower
voice, "Do they hurt you?"
"Not much. A man likes to succeed, but there are things I like better."
"Yes. Well, there's nothing we--_we_--like better, Mr. Marchmont."
He rose and stood on the hearth; her eyes were upturned to his in a
steady gaze.
"You were always very frank, weren't you?" he asked, looking down and
smiling. "Well, you've known what you say for a long while, haven't
you?"
"Oh, yes, even before--Oh, ever since the very beginning, you know.
There now! We've left 'We' and got to 'I,' and whenever that happens I
say something I oughtn't to. But one must sometimes. I believe I could
serve anybody to the death if only I were allowed to speak my whole mind
about him once a week.
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