She went to him. He put his hand through her arm and drew her into the passage. "Don't let Guy have any more to drink!" he said. "Mind, I leave him to you."
He spoke with urgency; she looked at him in surprise.
"Yes, I mean it," he said. "You must prevent him somehow. I can't—nor Kelly either. You probably can—for a time anyhow."
"I'll do my best," she said.
His hand closed upon her. "If you fail, he'll go under, I know the signs. It's up to you to stop him. Go back and see to it!"
He almost pushed her from him with the words, and it came to her that for some reason Guy's welfare was uppermost with him just then. He had never betrayed any anxiety on his account before, and she wondered greatly at his attitude. But it was no time for questioning. Mutely she obeyed him and went back.
She found Guy in the act of filling a glass for Kelly. His own stood empty at his elbow. She went forward quickly, and laid her hand on his shoulder. "Guy, please!" she said,
He looked at her, the bottle in his hand. In his eyes she saw again that dreadful leaping flame which made her think of some starved and desperate animal. "What is it?" he said.
An overwhelming sense of her own futility came upon her. She felt almost like a child standing there, attempting that of which Burke had declared himself to be incapable.
"What is it?" he said again.