The hand that lay upon the shelf of the mantelpiece shook and closed quickly.

She lifted up her head and looked at him.

Her eyes were misty and faint clouds of color were coming and going over her face.
"What is it ?" he asked.

"Surely, Miss Lorne, you--are not afraid of me ?" "No," she said, averting her face again.

"Not of you but of myself.
That is--I--" trying to laugh, but making a parody of it--"I was always more or less of a coward, Mr.Cleek, but..." She faced round again sharply and held out her hand to him.