I shall not trouble you again." She was half-way across the room.

She was at the door, her hand was upon the handle.

He was white to the lips, his whole frame was shaking with the effort of intense repression.

He kept silence, till only a flutter of her cloak was to be seen in the doorway.

And then the cry which he had tried so hard to stifle broke from his lips.
"Lucille! Lucille!" She hesitated, and came back--looking at him, so he thought, with trembling lips and eyes soft with unshed tears.
"I was a brute," he murmured.