It would mean that, that I should devote my whole life to making you happy." "A woman should be contented with that, surely," she said.

And if Henry Fordyce had had his usual critical wits about him unclouded by love, he would have smiled his cynical smile and have said to himself: "The spark is not lit, my friend; her voice lacks enthusiasm and her brows are calm," but he was like all lovers--blind--and only saw and heard what could comfort his heart, and so caught at the straw with delight.
"Whatever you asked I would give you.

Only say that you will let me set about helping you to be free at once." Mrs.Howard, however, had not gone this far in her imaginings--the idea had started in her brain, no doubt, but it had not matured yet, and all was hesitancy.
"I cannot promise anything.

You must give me time to think, Lord Fordyce." "Dearest, of course I will--but you will take steps to make yourself free--will you not?
I have not asked, and I will not ask you a single question, only that you will tell me when I really may hope." His voice was deep with feeling, and his distinguished, clever face was eager and full of devotion, as they turned an abrupt corner, and there came face to face with two of their American acquaintances in the hotel.
"Isn't this a charming walk, Mrs.Howard," and "Yes, isn't it!" and bows and passings on; but it broke the current, destroyed the spell, and released some spirit of mischief in Sabine's heart, for she would not be grave for another second.

She made Henry promise he would just amuse her and not refer again to those serious topics unless she gave him leave.