"That's good of you," he said in honest thankfulness. "You're being wonderfully good to me." He repeated it, ruminating, with his eyes looking out into the distance where hers were set. "But, I might have known you'd be that."
She shuddered. Praise from him, then, hurt more than all. She shuddered as if a wind had chilled her.
After a long pause, he moved and spoke again.
"How are you going to manage?" he asked. "What are you going to do?"
"I shall write."
"Home?"
"No--to Mrs. Crossthwaite."
"Is it safe?"
"I think so."
"But you mustn't be discovered," he said quickly. Conscience pulled him first one way, then another. Every instinct prompted him to accept her generosity without question. "You must not take too great a risk. Why, indeed, should you take any?"