He flung his arms wide upon the words, with a gesture of the most utter despair, and turned from her. A moment he stood swaying, as if bereft of all his strength; and then with abrupt effort he began to move away. He stumbled blindly, heavily, as he went, and the crying of the wheeling sea-gulls came plaintively through a silence that could be felt.
But ere that silence paralysed her, Avery spoke, raising her voice, for the urgency was great.
"Piers, stop!"
He stopped instantly, but he did not turn, merely stood tensely waiting.
She collected herself and went after him. She laid a hand that trembled on his arm.
"Don't leave me like this!" she said.
Slowly he turned his head and looked at her, and the misery of that look went straight to her heart. All the woman's compassion in her throbbed up to the surface. She found herself speaking with a tenderness which a moment before no power on earth would have drawn from her.
"Piers, something is wrong; something has happened. Won't you tell me what it is?"
"I can't," he said.
His lower lip quivered unexpectedly and she saw his teeth bite savagely upon it. "I'd better go," he said.