The mute reproach which had answered him, in Nugent's eyes, had broken down his last reserves of endurance.

He was crying silently on Nugent's breast.
It was necessary that one of us should make his, or her, voice heard.

I spoke first.
"Nothing is the matter, my dear," I said, advancing to meet Lucilla.

"We were passing the house, and Oscar ran out to stop us and bring us in." My excuses roused a new alarm in her.
"Us ?" she repeated.

"Who is with you ?" "Nugent is with me." The result of the deplorable misunderstanding which had taken place, instantly declared itself.