He looked down upon her—a long, long way. 'What do you mean?'
'Give me back what you took from me—my old faith,' she said, with shaking voice. 'Give me that.'
'Oh, if you mean to make phrases——' He half turned away, but the swift words overtook him.
'Or, give me back mere kindness—or even tolerance! Oh, I don't mean your tolerance.' She was on her feet to meet his eyes as he faced her again. 'Give me back the power to think fairly of my brothers—not as mockers—thieves.'
'I have not mocked you. And I have asked you——'
'Something you knew I should refuse. Or'—her eyes blazed—'or did you dare to be afraid I wouldn't?'
'Oh, I suppose'—he buttressed his good faith with bitterness—'I suppose if we set our teeth we could——'
'I couldn't—not even if I set my teeth. And you wouldn't dream of asking me if you thought there was the smallest chance.'
Ever so faintly he raised his heavy shoulders. 'I can do no more than make you an offer of such reparation as is in my power. If you don't accept it——' He turned away with an air of 'that's done.'