E. ” He dropped his eye-glass with a clatter. She loves you too well for that. She made up her mind in the train home that it should be a decisive crisis. "You hay'n't hurt your arm, I trust, my dear?" he added, anxiously. He conveyed not only his sense of the extreme want of correctitude in their unsanctioned meetings, but also that, so far as he was concerned, this irregularity mattered not at all, that he had flung—and kept on flinging—such considerations to the wind. Her eyes followed him. Instinctively she had fallen into the posture of the poster, her hands behind her, her head bent slightly forward, her chin uplifted, her eyes bright with the drollery of the song.
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