Her left hand was on the cushion at her side. He leaned forward and
took it gently in his own. She did not try to draw it back from him.
"May I have it," said he, "for life?"
"Oh, do attend to your steering," said she, smiling round at him; "and
don't say any more about this to-day. Please don't!"
"When shall I know, then?"
"Oh, to-night, to-morrow, I don't know. I must ask Clara. Talk about
something else."
And they did talk about something else; but her left hand was still
enclosed in his, and he knew, without asking again, that all was well.
----
CHAPTER VIII.
SHADOWS BEFORE.
Mrs. Westmacott's great meeting for the enfranchisement of woman had
passed over, and it had been a triumphant success. All the maids and
matrons of the southern suburbs had rallied at her summons, there was an
influential platform with Dr. Balthazar Walker in the chair, and Admiral
Hay Denver among his more prominent supporters. One benighted male had
come in from the outside darkness and had jeered from the further end of
the hall, but he had been called to order by the chair, petrified by
indignant glances from the unenfranchised around him, and finally
escorted to the door by Charles Westmacott.
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