"Indifferent. He trusts Naniescu, has confidence in his judgment, and believes in his patriotism and sense of justice."
"Then there is absolutely nothing to be done," she reiterated slowly in a dull dream-voice.
She was keying herself up to tell him all that had happened in the past four-and-twenty hours. But she was so tired, almost on the verge of breaking down. She did not think that she would have the strength to go through with the long tale of hope and despair. But Jasper made her sit down on the sofa and arranged a couple of cushions round her head. Then he sat down on a low chair beside her.
"Now tell me, little one," he said quietly.
"Why, Jasper," she exclaimed, "how did you guess that there was anything to tell?"
"Don't I know every line of your adorable face?" he retorted, "every flicker almost of your eyelid. Before I touched your hand I knew that something was amiss. After that I was sure."
"Dear," she murmured, and nestled her hand in his. Wasn't Jasper wonderful too? With his marvellous understanding and that utterly selfless love for her, who, alas! gave so little in return. He bent his head and pressed his lips upon her wrist.
"You guessed right," she said. "Something is very much amiss."
Then she told him everything. He listened to the whole tale without a comment, and even after she had finished speaking he sat in silence with her hand held between his own, only bending his head now and again in order to kiss her wrist.
"There's nothing to be done!" she reiterated again, with a pitiable little catch in her voice.