No
good can come of any friendship between my father and you."
"There is this much of good in it, at any rate," he answered, as
he held open the door for her. "It might give me the chance of
seeing you sometimes."
"That is not a matter worth considering," she replied.
"I find it very much worth considering," he whispered, losing his
head for a moment as they stood close together in the dim light
of the box, and a sudden sense of the sweetness of her thrilled
his pulses. "There isn't anything in the world I want so much as
to see you oftener--to have my chance."
There was a momentary glow in her eyes. Her lips quivered. The
few words which he saw framed there--he fancied of reproof
--remained unspoken. Sir Timothy was waiting for them at the
entrance.
"I have been asking Mrs. Hilditch's permission to call in Curzon
Street," Francis said boldly.
"I am sure my daughter will be delighted," was the cold but
courteous reply.
Margaret herself made no comment. The car drew up and she
stepped into it--a tall, slim figure, wonderfully graceful in her
unrelieved black, her hair gleaming as though with some sort of
burnish, as she passed underneath the electric light. She looked
back at him with a smile of farewell as he stood bareheaded upon
the steps, a smile which reminded him somehow of her father, a
little sardonic, a little tender, having in it some faintly
challenging quality.
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