The man remained sunk in a sombre reverie.

He had the appearance of thinking of himself, not of her; of his own position, not of hers.

Otherwise he must have looked at her, he must have turned to her; he must have owned the subtle attraction of her unspoken appeal when she drew a deep breath and slowly turned her eyes on him, mute, asking, waiting what he should offer.
Surely he should have! Yet it was long before he responded.

He sat buried in thought of himself, and his position, the vile, the unworthy position in which her act had placed him.

At length the constraint of her gaze wrought on him, or his thoughts became unbearable; and he looked up and met her eyes, and with an oath he sprang to his feet.
"It shall not be!" he cried, in a tone low, but full of fury.