He turned his face up to her; and though the stamp of his agony was still upon it, the eyes were pure and free from all taint of passion.
"What do you want?" she asked him softly.
"I've been—horrible to you, Sylvia," he said, speaking rather jerkily. "Sometimes I get a devil inside me—and I don't know what I'm doing. I believe it's Kieff. I never knew what hell meant till I met him. He taught me practically everything I know in that line. He was like an awful rotting disease. He ruined everyone he came near. Everything he touched went bad." He paused a moment. Then, with a sudden boyishness, "There, it's done with, darling," he said. "Will you forget it all—and let me start afresh? I've had such damnable luck always."
His eyes pleaded with her, yet they held confidence also. He knew that she would not refuse.
And because of that which the lamplight had revealed to her, Sylvia bent after a moment and kissed him on the forehead. She knew as she did it that the devil, that had menaced her had been driven forth.
So for a space they remained in a union of the spirit that was curiously unlike anything that had ever before existed between them. Then Guy's arm began to slip away from her. There came from him a deep sigh.
She bent low over him, looking into his face. His eyes were closed, but his lips moved, murmuring words which she guessed rather than heard.
"Let me rest—just for a little! I shall be all right—afterwards."
She laid him back very gently upon the pillow, and lifted his feet on to the bed. He thanked her almost inaudibly, and relaxed every muscle like a tired child. She turned the lamp from him and moved away.
She dressed in the dimness. Guy did not stir again. He lay shrouded in the peace of utter repose. She had watched those deep slumbers too often to fear any sudden awakening.