She started under his look. "You mean, why don't I help you? Why don't I use my influence? Ah, if you knew how I have tried!"
"And you are sure that nothing can be done?"
"Nothing, nothing: what arguments can I use? We abhor divorce—we go against our religion in consenting to it—and nothing short of recovering the boy could possibly justify us."
Durham turned slowly away. "Then there is nothing to be done," he said, speaking more to himself than to her.
He felt her light touch on his arm. "Wait! There is one thing more—" She stood close to him, with entreaty written on her small passionate face. "There is one thing more," she repeated. "And that is, to believe that I am deceiving you again."
He stopped short with a bewildered stare. "That you are deceiving me—about the boy?"
"Yes—yes; why shouldn't I? You're so credulous—the temptation is irresistible."
"Ah, it would be too easy to find out—"
"Don't try, then! Go on as if nothing had happened. I have been lying to you," she declared with vehemence.
"Do you give me your word of honour?" he rejoined.