"Little enough," said she bitterly, "little enough. About all they've given me—about all I've got left—is the boy. But I want to play fair."
"That's it," said he. "So do I. That's why I tell you you're too good for me, when it comes to that, after all."
"Why, it would all have to come out—one way or the other. It all has come out, as you say. We couldn't evade that now—it's too late. Here's the proof—Dieudonné—and I can't deny him."
He nodded gravely. She went on:
"Everyone knows about the boy now—everybody knows he's—got no father. That's my boy. Too late now to explain—he's ruined all that by coming here. And yet you ask me to marry you. If I did, one of two things surely would be said, and either of them would make you wretched all your life."
He turned to her and looked at her steadily.
"They might say I was the father?"
She nodded, flushing painfully. "They might guess. And a few might think that after all these years——"
"Maybe," said he slowly. "But you see, after all, it's only a theoretical hurt I'm taking if I stand between you and these damned harpies here. They're going to torture you, Aurora, going to flay and burn you alive. I'd like to do about anything I could for you, anything a man can in such a case as ours. As for sacrifice—why, whatever you think I think of you, I believe we can both call it sure that I want to stand between you and the world. I want to have the right to take care of you. It's what I want to do—must do. I've waited too long. But it's what I always have intended. You'd never let me. I never seemed to get around to it before. But now——"
"Impossible!" she whispered, white, her great eyes somber. "There is no way. Love of man has gone by for me. It knocked once. It has gone by."