She would have known whether or no she loved
the man, or could love him, and would have given him some true and
intelligible answer. Bell had not done so, but had given him an
answer which, if true, was not intelligible, and if intelligible was
not true. And yet, when she had gone away to think over what had
passed, she had been happy and satisfied, and almost triumphant. She
had never yet asked herself whether she expected anything further
from Dr Crofts, nor what that something further might be,--and yet
she was happy!
Lily had now become pert and saucy in her bed, taking upon herself
the little airs which are allowed to a convalescent invalid as
compensation for previous suffering and restraint. She pretended to
much anxiety on the subject of her dinner, and declared that she
would go out on such or such a day, let Dr Crofts be as imperious as
he might. "He's an old savage, after all," she said to her sister,
one evening after he was gone, "and just as bad as the rest of them."
"I do not know who the rest of them are," said Bell, "but at any rate
he's not very old.
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