There could not possibly be
any misapprehension; there was no room for one of those little
mistakes about which people write novels and fondly hope that some
youthful reader may be carried away by a very faint resemblance to
that which they hold to be life. Moreover, at thirty, one leaves
the first romance of youth behind.
There was something in her smile that suggested that she did not
quite believe in his cynicism.
"Also," she said gravely, "some stronger influence might appear--an
influence which I could not counteract."
Jack Meredith turned in his long chair and looked at her
searchingly.
"I have a vague idea," he said, "that you are thinking of Durnovo."
"I am," she admitted, with some surprise. "I wonder how you knew?
I am afraid of him."
"I can reassure you on that score," said Meredith. "For the next
two years or so Durnovo will be in daily intercourse with me. He
will be under my immediate eye. I did not anticipate much pleasure
from his society. But now I do."
"Why?" she asked, rather mystified.
"Because I shall have the daily satisfaction of knowing that I am
relieving you of an anxiety."
"It is very kind of you to put it in that way," said Jocelyn. "But
I should not like you to sacrifice yourself to what may be a foolish
prejudice on my part.
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