The exceptional minute, a mere snatch, at the tail of the others, on the huge Portland Place staircase had sufficiently enabled the girl to remind him--so ready she assumed him to be--of what they were to do.

Time pressed if they were to do it at all.

Everyone had brought gifts; his relations had brought wonders--how did they still have, where did they still find, such treasures?
She only had brought nothing, and she was ashamed; yet even by the sight of the rest of the tribute she wouldn't be put off.
She would do what she could, and he was, unknown to Maggie, he must remember, to give her his aid.

He had prolonged the minute so far as to take time to hesitate, for a reason, and then to risk bringing his reason out.

The risk was because he might hurt her--hurt her pride, if she had that particular sort.