But Narcissus, already immersed in calculations, scarcely looked up from his paper.

"Ah, there you are! Have you brought the India-ink ?" he asked, and after a minute she marvelled at her own self-possession.

Even when he left them to work out the measurements together (and it flashed upon her that henceforth they would often be left together, her immunity being taken for granted), she kept her head bowed over the papers and managed to control her voice to put one or two ordinary questions--until the pencil dropped from her fingers and she felt her hand imprisoned.
"Dorothea!" "Oh, please, no!" she entreated hoarsely.

"M.

Raoul--!" "Charles--" She attempted to draw her hand away; but, failing, lifted her eyes for mercy.