"Oh no, Mr. Fitzpiers," said Grace, earnestly. "It is not so at all.
I know from seeing your light at night how deeply you meditate and
work. Instead of condemning you for your studies, I admire you very
much!"
Her face, upturned from the microscope, was so sweet, sincere, and
self-forgetful in its aspect that the susceptible Fitzpiers more than
wished to annihilate the lineal yard which separated it from his own.
Whether anything of the kind showed in his eyes or not, Grace remained
no longer at the microscope, but quickly went her way into the rain.