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 with permission toward Angus’s door…. Lydia flushed, glanced apprehensively at the door, and turned for reinforcement to her great-aunt.

“Stop your gawping, young man,” said that imposing old lady, “and show us in…. No, you go alone, Lydia. That’ll be best. I’ll come when—and if—you want me.”

Lydia walked hesitatingly to Angus’s door and rapped timidly. His voice summoned her to enter—that voice which she had so yearned to hear. She turned the knob, pushed open the door and stepped within, flushed, trembling, happy, expectant… apprehensive. Now that she was actually coming into Angus’s presence she was afraid for the first time, fearful of what reception he might grant her…. Yet she was so eager to see him, had so counted the hours until she could reach him…. She stood just within the door waiting piteously.

“Angus,” she said. “Angus….”

She could see Angus’s hand quiver as it rested upon the arm of his chair; his eyes gazed at her hungrily; spots of white appeared at the corners of his jaw under the muscular tension…. He stared at her, neither speaking nor moving.

“Angus,” she said again softly, “I’ve come back—to you—if you want me.”

Even now he did not move or speak, but