Yet even I have given up hope, unless--But I have no right to say more." There was no need.

She began to understand.

A deep, soft red, sun-rise colour, dawned all over her face and neck, nay, tinged her very arms--her delicate, bare arms.

She looked at me once--just once--with a mute but keen inquiry.
"It is the truth, Miss March--ay, ever since last year.

You will respect it?
You will, you shall respect it ?" She bent her head in acquiescence--that was all.