“You will say,” she answered, her voice lower still, “that you met me at the Kölner Hof, that I made advances, that you found me attractive, and that I readily agreed to accompany you to Paris. You can say that it was I who suggested altering your passport—that you saw no harm in it—and that you knew absolutely nothing about me except that I was a—a loose woman.”
Stewart’s lips were trembling so that it was a moment before he could control his voice.
“And do you really think I would say that, little comrade?” he asked, hoarsely. “Do you really think anything on earth could compel me to say that!”
He heard the quick intake of her breath; then she raised his hand to her cheek and he felt the hot tears upon it.
“Don’t you understand,” he went on earnestly, “that we are in this together to the end—the very end? I know I’m not of much use, but I am not such a coward as you seem to think me, and——”
She stopped him with a quick pressure of the fingers.
“Don’t!” she breathed. “You are cruel!”
“Not half so cruel as you were a moment ago,” he retorted.
“Forgive me, my friend,” she pleaded, and moved a little nearer. “I did not know—I am but a girl—I thought perhaps you would wish to be rid of me.”
“I don’t want ever to be rid of you,” began Stewart, brokenly, drawing her closer. “I don’t want ever——”