John Somers. Yours very truly,
ROBERT RUSHBROOK.
A quick flush mounted to the young girl's cheeks. "But this is a
SECURITY, Mr. Rushbrook," she said proudly, handing him back the paper,
"and my uncle does not require that. Nor shall I insult him or you by
sending it."
"It is BUSINESS, Miss Nevil," said Rushbrook, gravely. He stopped, and
fixed his eyes upon her animated face and sparkling eyes. "You can send
it to him or not, as you like. But"--a rare smile came to his handsome
mouth--"as this is a letter to YOU, you must not insult ME by not
accepting it."
Replying to his smile rather than the words that accompanied it, Miss
Nevil smiled, too. Nevertheless, she was uneasy and disturbed. The
interview, whatever she might have vaguely expected from it, had
resolved itself simply into a business indorsement of her lover, which
she had not sought, and which gave her no satisfaction. Yet there was
the same potent and indefinably protecting presence before her which she
had sought, but whose omniscience and whose help she seemed to have lost
the spell and courage to put to the test.
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