Maurice, soon after this conversation, had discontinued his
professional visits. He wished gradually to make it evident to Fay
that his attentions had a deeper meaning. Besides, he was scarcely in
a state to coolly feel her pulse when he was ready to devour her hand
with kisses. The consequence of this change was that he seldom saw her
alone: he had less opportunity than ever of winning her affection, and
he was tormented by thinking that if she became cured of her eccentric
fancy, it would be to marry Clifton.
The doctor was a man of expedients. One evening, when on the shore
with Miss Lafitte at a little distance from a party of gay companions,
he spied one of those flat-bottomed boats which are a feature of the
place, and invited her to enter. Without a word he sent the tiny craft
far over the water, out of hearing, almost out of sight, when, resting
on his oars, he began: "I am glad to see you have entirely given up
your faith in premonitions, Miss Lafitte."
She was sitting, her hands lying idly in her lap, gazing dreamily at
the drifting clouds above. Without taking the trouble to change her
position, she asked, "How so?"
"You are in love with George Clifton.
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