said Grandcourt, apparently choosing this statement as the strongest possible use of language.
"Poor thing!" said Lydia, with a faint smile:—was he aware of the minor fact that he had made her feel ill this morning?
But with the quick transition natural to her, she was now ready to coax him if he would let her, that they might part in some degree reconciled. She ventured to lay her hand on his shoulder, and he did not move away from her: she had so far succeeded in alarming him, that he was not sorry for these proofs of returned subjection.
"Light a cigar," she said, soothingly, taking the case from his breast-pocket and opening it.
Amidst such caressing signs of mutual fear they parted. The effect that clung and gnawed within Grandcourt was a sense of imperfect mastery.
