Читать книгу Dr. Wainwright's Patient. A Novel онлайн

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"Between eight and nine, I suppose; nearer nine."

"May I meet you when you come away, Daisy? Will you come with me to the theatre?"

"No, Paul; you know perfectly well that I will not. You know it is not of the slightest use proposing such things to me."

"Yes, I know it's of no use; I wish it were; it would be so jolly, and--then you'll go straight back to South Molton Street?"

"Yes; to my garret!" and she laughed, rather a hard laugh, as she said these words.

"Don't say that, Daisy; I hate to hear you say that word."

"It's the right word, Paul, horrid or not. However, I shall get out of it some day, I suppose."

"How?" asked Paul, withdrawing his arm from her waist, and looking fixedly at her.

"How should I know?" said the girl, with the same hard laugh. "Feet foremost, perhaps, in my coffin. Somehow, at all events."

"You're in a curious mood to-day, Daisy."

"Am I? You'll see me in many curious moods, if we continue to know each other long, Paul--which I very much doubt, by the way."

"Daisy, what makes you say that? You've not seen anyone--you've not heard--I mean, you don't intend to break with me, Daisy?"