"
"By-the-by," said Waymark, "you know her too well to venture upon
anything like direct criticism of her behaviour, when you talk
together!"
"Indeed, I scarcely venture to speak of herself at all. It would be
hard to say what we talk about."
"Of course," Waymark said, after a short silence, "there are limits
to self-devotion. So long as it seems to you that there is any
chance of doing some good, well, persevere. But you mustn't be
sacrificed to such a situation. The time you give her is so much
absolute loss to yourself."
"Oh, but I work hard to make up for it. You are not dissatisfied
with me?"
"And what if I were? Would it matter much?"
This was one of the things that Waymark was ever and again saying,
in spite of himself. He could not resist the temptation of proving
his power in this way; it is so sweet to be assured of love, even
though every voice within cries out against the temptation to enjoy
it, and condemns every word or act that could encourage it to hope.
Ida generally met such remarks with silence; but in this instance
she looked up steadily, and said--
"Yes, it _would_ matter much." Waymark drew in his breath, half
turned away--and spoke of some quite different matter.
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