The pleasure caused her by this compliment had to suffice her for the whole evening.

She could no longer hide from herself that Delphin was in danger of slipping out of her hands; but she never reproached him, for she felt instinctively that as soon as anything of the kind arose between them, all would be over, and part from him she could not.
Jacob Worse danced a waltz with Rachel, and during the pauses he tried several times to lead the conversation on to the injustice she had done him in calling him a coward.

At first she avoided the subject, which was, indeed, too serious a one for the ballroom; but Worse was persistent--it was not very often that he had the opportunity of speaking with her--and at last Rachel promised him half jestingly to give him an answer when the dance was over.
As they were sitting by themselves in a corner of one of the rooms leading off the ballroom, and while the dancing was still going on, she said, "I must beg your pardon for what I said the other day.

You are not a bit more cowardly than the rest of them." "If we could manage to define exactly what you mean by cowardice," said Jacob Worse.
"But you know perfectly well." "Well, then, is not this about your idea?
When a man, either in politics, or in religion, or in any other serious matter, is not at all in accordance with the general tone of the society in which he lives--then, if he holds his tongue, it can be from no other cause than from what you are pleased to call cowardice." "That is exactly my opinion, and I maintain it is correct." "But, on the other hand, I am sure you must allow," continued Jacob Worse, "that all opposition has not the same weight.

In many cases it might do more harm--" "Oh, I know that miserable, cowardly excuse!" broke in Rachel, abruptly.
"'What is the good,' you say, 'of even my best endeavours when I work alone ?' and then you lie down and go to sleep.