She smiled a little. "What is this leading up to?"
He bent suddenly, his lips against her forehead. "Dear heart, if I am wrong—forgive me! But—why are you trying to deceive me?"
She had never heard such tenderness in his voice before; it thrilled her through and through, checking her first involuntary dismay. She hid her face upon his breast, clasping him close, trembling from head to foot.
He turned, still holding her, and led her to the sofa. They sat down together.
"Poor girl!" he said softly. "It hasn't been easy, has it?"
Then she realized that he knew all that she had so strenuously sought to hide. The struggle was over and she was beaten. A great wave of emotion went through her. Before she could check herself, she was shaken with sobs.
"No, no!" he said, and laid his hand upon her head. "You mustn't cry. It's all right, my darling. It's all right. What is there to cry about?"
She clung faster to him, and her hold was passionate. "Everard," she whispered, "Everard,—I—can't leave you!"
"Ah!" he said "We are up against it now."
"I can't!" she said again. "I can't."