‘Why, in particular, not to Miss Lindon?’
‘Can you not guess?’
I hunched my shoulder.
‘If what I guess is what you mean is not that a cause the more why silence would be unfair to her?’
‘It is for me to speak, if for anyone. I shall not fail to do what should be done.—Give me your promise that you will not hint a word to her of what you have so unfortunately seen?’
I gave him the promise he required.
* * * * * * *
There was no more work for me that day. The Apostle, his divagations, his example of the coleoptera, his Arabian friend,—these things were as microbes which, acting on a system already predisposed for their reception, produced high fever; I was in a fever,—of unrest. Brain in a whirl!—Marjorie, Paul, Isis, beetle, mesmerism, in delirious jumble. Love’s upsetting!—in itself
