"Miss Chard ... Rosalind ..." he had discovered her name—"I will do anything for you."
It was far from being a surprise to her that he should make some kind of avowal. But his words seemed to her rather odd—and somehow in keeping with his odd looks at her. She very gently drew away her hand from under his and put it behind her head. The other was quite out of his reach.
"Thank you, Dr. Newnham," she said kindly, but with no particular fervour.
"Do you understand what I mean?" he said huskily, after another pause. "I can help you."
He could not see the expression on her face, but he saw that she turned her head to look at him as she answered:
"What can you mean?"
"Oh, you needn't beat about the bush with me," he spoke with coarse irritation. "I know what you have to face."
"You must be wonderfully clever," she said, with a touch of sarcasm; "but I should like to know just what you mean."
Irritation now became anger.
"You know well enough," he said brutally. "What is the good of playing pure with me! It is my business to see what isn't plain to other people."