She did not try to approach him. It was a refusal of expediency, he said, and not an absolute refusal. Will you forgive me—if I say no more?” She looked at him with perplexed, earnest eyes. Evidently in the flower of his age, he was scarcely less remarkable for symmetry of person than for comeliness of feature; and, though his attire was plain and unpretending, it was such as could be worn only by one belonging to the higher ranks of society. The Pellissiers had been an old family in Hampshire, while his grandfather had driven a van. Here was no crooked soul; a little weak perhaps, impulsive beyond common, but fundamentally honest.
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