She started, but she never looked up.

Some strange fear of discovery seemed to possess her.

"Horace ?" she whispered, timidly.

Julian made no reply.
He went back to his place, and allowed her to think it was Horace.
The sacrifice was immense enough--feeling toward her as he felt--to be worthy of the man who made it.
A few minutes had been all she asked for.

In a few minutes she turned toward them again.