"I think not," he said.

"Let the lady speak for herself! She will not--I think--deny me." There was an intolerable sneer in the last sentence.

A sudden awful doubt smote through Merryon.

He turned to the girl sobbing at his breast.
"Puck," he said, "for Heaven's sake--what is this man to you ?" She did not answer him; perhaps she could not.

Her distress was terrible to witness, utterly beyond all control.
But the newcomer was by no means disconcerted by it.