She sprang forward, her hands on his shoulders, her lips quivering like rose-leaves in a gale.
"Do you mean it? Will you save my father?"
He took her wrists and held her away from him.
"Death saves him; certainly not I."
"No more sorrow can ever come to him?"
"Not from this box; and none through me."
The revulsion overwhelmed her. She sank back, and when he caught her and put his ear to her mouth he could not hear her breathe. He lifted and laid her upon a sofa, and stood looking down at her. So pure and white, so helpless, so beautiful! Legally his wife, but never to be his.
Dipping a towel in water he bathed her face, sprinkled it. The icy hands he chafed in his broad, warm palms, and as his fingers touched the wedding ring he ground his teeth. When her breathing grew stronger, he rose, relinquished her hands, and after a moment she opened her eyes.
"I thought you college-bred girls too well trained to faint."
She sat up, half dazed, and the water dripped from her hair.