His expression changed, the rigidity relaxed, and he dropped my arm with a hasty gesture.
“Think, Ronnie, of death—and what it means.”
“My dear Eva, I have been thinking of nothing else the last two hours. At seven-and-twenty there’s a big bit of life due, but I have no alternative. I’m in a hideous fix, and there is only one way out.”
“There must be another,” I said; “this one is the coward’s path. Oh, Ronnie, I implore you to take me into your confidence. What has happened?”
“The family curse has overtaken me—that’s all.”
“Gambling?”
“Yes. What’s bred in the bone there’s no getting away from—it is part of oneself.”
“Two heads are better than one. It may be the case of the mouse and the lion. Promise me that you will put this idea out of your head. Listen. I will make some hot coffee at the stove, and we will go and sit out in the veranda and you shall tell me everything. But before I leave you I must have your promise,” and I looked him full in the eyes.
“All right,” he agreed. “I give you my word, and you can go and make the coffee. You are a level-headed girl, and perhaps you may be able to see some glimmer of light in the darkness.”
I glanced fearfully round the room trying to discover if there were any other weapon, then I went back into my own apartment and hid the revolver; returning, I lit the oil stove and prepared the coffee. As soon as it was ready I brewed two large cups and took one to Ronnie, who was standing by the table in the dining-room.