"Yes, it is of use," said Stephen, impetuously. "It would be of use if you would treat me with some sort of pity and consideration, instead of doing me vile injustice in your mind. I could bear everything more quietly if I knew you didn't hate me for an insolent coxcomb. Look at me; see what a hunted devil I am;I've been riding thirty miles every day to get away from the thought of you."
Maggie did not–dared not–look. She had already seen the harassed face. But she said gently,–