His eyes ran over her travelling costume.
"So you're really going?" he said.
"Yes."
He was silent again. Then he said slowly:
"Well— I'm going, too."
"What!" said Sophy. She did not understand. She looked frightened. Did he mean that he would try to come with her—follow her?
"You misunderstand me—naturally," he said, with some bitterness. "I do not mean that I am going with you—agreeable as that might be." He could not suppress this mild sneer: his heart was very sore and angry under his cooler mood. "I mean that your confounded magnanimousness has got under my armour— I'm going to man-handle myself just because you wouldn't let me be man-handled by others."
Sophy held her breath. He knew that trick of hers. It meant that she was moved to the quick and afraid to believe her own senses. His set look broke a little.
"Yes, I mean it," he said rather gruffly. He sneered again, at himself this time. "I don't blame you for looking sceptical— I believe there's a good authority that says, 'A liar shall not be believed though he speak the truth.'"
White and red flame seemed to flicker over Sophy's face. She put up both hands against her breast.