"A week ago tonight," he began, but she gave a quick, inarticulate cry.
"Please don't say anything about that night," her voice was trembling. "It burns my soul!"
"Yes, I will. We'll look at it squarely for this once, and your soul will treat it calmly. Why not? Wasn't it your victory? Forget you're a girl, and I a man, and for a minute let's have honest outspoken words which might come from two people who've been through an hour neither one of them will ever forget!"
"No, I won't ever forget," she murmured.
"Nor I. Did you know I was a sneak in pretending to love you then? Did you know it was a lie?"
She could never have realized what it cost him to blurt out these words.
"I knew it when—I had a chance to think," she faltered, not feeling that outspoken thoughts were as simple as he seemed to find them, "When I saw it wasn't you that I loved, but just the things you said, I knew I couldn't love you either. That's made it seem easier, Brent."
"And still you came to Arden to help me?" he looked curiously down at her.
"But I'd forgiven you, an'—an' it wasn't all yoh fault!" Then, looking up at him with hardly a trace of embarrassment, she added: "The blind girl showed me! You'd ought to know her, Brent!"
"Who is that blind girl?"