"If I thought it was for your happiness, believe me, I would set you free. But, so far, you haven't given me any reason that could justify such a step. Can't you think of one? Honestly, now?"
She shook her head. Her eyes were full of blinding tears.
"What is it, then?" urged Kenyon. And suddenly his voice was as soft as a woman's. "Has the right man turned up unexpectedly, after all? Is it for his sake?"
"Oh, don't!" she cried passionately. "Don't! You hurt me!"
And, turning sharply from him, she hid her face, and broke into anguished weeping.
Kenyon stood quite still for perhaps ten seconds; then he moved close to her, and put his arm round the slight, sobbing figure.
She did not start or attempt to resist him.
"There, there!" he whispered soothingly. "I knew there was a reason. Don't cry, dear! It will be all right—all right. Never mind the beastly money. There's going to be a big boom in the Winhalla Railway shares, and you'll make your fortune over it. Yes; I know all about that. A friend told me. There's a big capitalist pushing behind. They have gone down this week, but they are going to rise like a spring tide next. And then—you'll be free to marry the right man, eh, dear? I sha'n't stand in your way. I'll even come and dance at the wedding, if you'll have me."
She uttered a muffled laugh through her tears, and turned slightly towards him within the encircling arm.
"I hope you will," she murmured. "Because—because—" She broke off, and became silent.