But even so she did not dare to speak above a whisper.
"I want you to do me a favour.

If you should meet Harry, I should like him to have news of me.

I should like him also--oh, not so often--but just every now and then to write me a little line." There were tears glistening on her dark eyelashes.

Hillyard fell into a sort of panic as he reflected upon his own vaunting talk.

Compared with this woman's poignant distress, all the vicissitudes of his life seemed now quite trivial and small.