There was a long silence.
“All right!” said Robert briefly.
She knew how terribly she had hurt him. He had wanted to do so much for her, to take her into his home and protect her and care for her, and she would not let him. She had turned away with a smile from all that he had to offer. She would take nothing.
“I’ve always led—such an active life,” she said, in a very unsteady voice. “I should think you could understand, Robert—”
“I do!” he said grimly.
“You don’t!” she cried. “You don’t! You—”
She could not go on. She bent her head and pretended to be cutting up something on her plate, but she could not see clearly. He never would understand that she was doing this only for love of him, only so that she might not be here in his home as the sinister third person who saw everything and—
She started at the touch of Molly’s hand on her arm.
“If that’s your way to be happy, darling,” said Robert’s wife, and Mrs. Champney saw tears in her honest eyes.