He would get her to come to tea with him, usually in a pleasant tea-room over a fruit-shop in Tottenham Court Road, and he would discuss his own point of view and hint at a thousand devotions were she but to command him. He would go there. Why? Love was a word of God's, and yet her father had denied it—denied it to the Book, denied it to his own flesh and blood. Breakfast, too, was an impossible occasion. What!—add another drop to her cup? Who knows? Any day they may find me. The two aunts of these young ladies lived for many years in the dower house upon my estate in Hampshire. "You're only twenty—not legally of age. Kneebone's door, you begged me to await your return here, assuring me you would not detain me five minutes. Laying these carefully aside, he restored the drawer to its place.
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