He wondered what he had ever thought he could say, would say.
Then Rose's face shone out before his eyes, and his impulse of protection made him firm.

He spoke abruptly.

"Miss Lucy--" he began.
Lucy cast her eyes down and waited, her whole attitude was that of utter passiveness and yielding.

"Good Lord! She thinks I have come here at eight o'clock in the morning to propose!" Horace thought, with a sort of fury.

But he did not speak again at once.