She
welcomed him, too, with a look which he in vain endeavoured to
respond to--a look of sudden relief from weariness, of gentle
illumination; it smote him like a reproach. When the summer had set
in, he was glad to change the still room for the open air; they
walked frequently about Regent's Park, and lingered till after
sunset.
One evening, when it was dull and threatened rain, they returned to
the house sooner than usual. Waymark would have taken his leave at
the door, as he ordinarily did, but Maud begged him to enter, if
only for a few minutes. It was not quite nine o'clock, and Mrs.
Enderby was from home.
He seated himself, but Maud remained standing irresolutely. Waymark
glanced at her from under his eyebrows. He did not find it easy to
speak; they had both been silent since they left the park, with the
exception of the few words exchanged at the door.
"Will you let me sit here?" Maud asked suddenly, pushing a footstool
near to his chair, and kneeling upon it.
He smiled and nodded.
"When will they begin the printing?" she asked, referring to his
book, which was now in the hands of the publisher who had undertaken
it.
"Not for some months. It can't come out till the winter season.
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