"
He took out his watch to count the minute.
Grace stole one furtive glance at his steady, resolute face. She
was perfectly unmoved by the manly consideration for her which
Julian's last words had expressed. All she understood was that he
was not a man to be trifled with. Future opportunities would
offer themselves of returning secretly to the house. She
determined to yield--and deceive him.
"I am ready to go," she said, rising with dogged submission.
"Your turn now," she muttered to herself, as she turned to the
looking-glass to arrange her shawl. "My turn will come."
Julian advanced toward her, as if to offer her his arm, and
checked himself. Firmly persuaded as he was that her mind was
deranged--readily as he admitted that she claimed, in virtue of
her affliction, every indulgence that he could extend to
her--there was something repellent to him at that moment in the
bare idea of touching her. The image of the beautiful creature
who was the object of her monstrous accusation--the image of
Mercy as she lay helpless for a moment in his arms--was vivid in
his mind while he opened the door that led into the hall, and
drew back to let Grace pass out before him.
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