"It's my duty," she maintained.
He gave her an odd look. "And do you always do—your duty?"
"I try to," she said.
"Always?" he insisted.
Something in his eyes gave her pause. She wanted to turn her own aside, but could not. "To—to the best of my ability," she stammered.
He looked ironical for an instant, and then abruptly he laughed and released her work. "Bless your funny little heart!" he said. "Peg away, if you want to! It looks rather as if you're starting at the wrong end, but, being a woman, no doubt you will get there eventually."
That pierced her. It was Guy—Guy in the flesh—tenderly taunting her with some feminine weakness. So swift and so sharp was the pain that she could not hide it. She bent her face over her work with a quick intake of the breath.
"Why—Sylvia!" he said, bending over her.
She drew away from him. "Don't—please! I—I am foolish.
Don't—take any notice!"
He stood up again, but his hand found her shoulder and rubbed it comfortingly. "What is it, partner? Tell a fellow!" he urged, his tone an odd mixture of familiarity and constraint.