She spoke very earnestly, but his faint smile told her that her words had failed to convince.
"Are you really afraid of all that?" he asked curiously.
She caught her breath. "Yes, I am afraid. I don't think you know yourself, your strength, or your weakness. You haven't the least idea what you would say or do—or even feel—if you thought me unkind or unjust to you."
"I should probably sulk," he said.
She shook her head. "Oh, no! You would explode—sooner or later. And it would be a very violent explosion. I wonder if you have ever been really furious with any one you cared about—with Tommy for instance."
"I have," said Monck. "But I don't fancy you will get him to relate his experiences. He survived it anyway."
"You tell me!" she said.
He hesitated. "It's rather a shame to give the boy away. But there is nothing very extraordinary in it. When Tommy first came out, he felt the heat—like lots of others. He was thirsty, and he drank. He doesn't do it now. I don't mind wagering that he never will again. I stopped him."
"Everard, how?" Stella was looking at him with the keenest interest.
"Do you really want to know how?" he still spoke with slight hesitation.