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Mr. Deacon, I believe you're afraid of me!

Thus Wilhelmina Ford opened her conversation with Ambrose sitting beside her in the car. In ordinary circumstances this remark would have been quite sufficient to create the condition to which she referred, but Philip Lawrence had relieved Ambrose of so much immediate anxiety that for the moment he was too light-hearted to easily lose his composure.

His actual reply was: I never talk much.

You've never had much of an opportunity to talk to me, Wilhelmina remarked. The last time I saw you I told you the story of my life—what there was of it.

I remember.

I thought you would. I hope nothing I said then frightened you.

He looked at her: she appeared to be serious. Her voice sounded warm and natural. He forced a smile and muttered bravely, You couldn't mean that, what you said about. . . . He hesitated.

I did mean it. Whatever happens I shall