"He's going to Stoughton. He's been there—already."
If there was silence again it was because he dared not frame the words that were on his tongue.
"It isn't—it can't be—?"
Without moving otherwise, she turned her head so that her eyes looked into his obliquely. She nodded. She could utter no more than the briefest syllables. "Yes. It is."
His lips were parched, but he still forced himself to speak. "Is that true?—or are you saying it because—because I put up the money?"
She gathered all her strength together. "If you hadn't put up the money, I might never have known that it was true; but it is true. I think it was true before that—long ago—when you offered me so much—so much!—that I didn't know how to take it—and I didn't answer you. I can't tell. I can't tell when it began—but it seems to me very far back—"
Still bending forward, he covered his eyes with his left hand, raising his right in a blind, groping movement in her direction. She took it in both her own, clasping it to her breast, as she went on:
"I see now—yes, I think I see quite clearly—that that's why I struggled against your help, in the first place.... If it had been anybody else I should probably have taken it at once.... You must have thought me very foolish.... I suppose I was.... My only excuse is that it was something like—like revolt—first against the wrong we had been doing, and then against the great, sublime thing that was coming up out of the darkness to conquer me.... That's the way I felt.... I was afraid.... I wanted something smaller—something more conventional—such as I'd been trained for.... It was only by degrees that I came to see that there were big things to live for—as well as little.... It's all so wonderful!—so mysterious! I can't tell!... I only know that now—"
He withdrew his hand, looking troubled.
"Are you—are you—sure?"