He obeyed, and his wet eyes met mine. In that precious moment I lived.
‘I don’t know,’ he said.
‘You could not have looked at me if you had not been strong, very strong,’ I said firmly. ‘You told me once that you had a house near Fontainebleau. Have you still got it?’
‘I suppose so.’
‘Let us go there, and—and—see.’
‘But—’
‘I should like to go,’ I insisted, with a break in my voice.
‘My God!’ he exclaimed in a whisper, ‘my God!’
I was sobbing violently, and my forehead was against the rough stuff of his coat.