“Then don’t make it, Basil; or wait till papa can arrange it for you, in a proper parliamentary way, when he comes back from the House of Commons tonight. See how I have been meddling with your papers; but they were in such confusion I was really afraid some of these leaves might have been lost.”
“Neither the leaves nor the writer deserve half the pains you have taken with them; but I am really sorry for breaking our engagement. I met an old college friend—there was business too, in the morning—we dined together—he would take no denial.”
“Basil, how pale you look! Are you ill?”
“No; the heat has been a little too much for me—nothing more.”
“Has anything happened? I only ask, because if I can be of any use—if you want me to stay at home—”
“Certainly not, love. I wish you all success and pleasure at the ball.”
For a moment she did not speak; but fixed her clear, kind eyes on me