"Yes." She leaned back and dried her tears. "In spite of what he says, I am afraid he may be guilty."
Lambert's heart seemed to stand still. "You talk rubbish!" he cried angrily.
"I wish it was. Oh, how I wish it was rubbish! But I can't be sure. Of course, he may have meant what he says—"
"What does he say? Tell me everything. Oh, heavens!" Lambert clutched his smooth hair. "What does it all mean?"
"Ruin to the Lambert family. I told you so."
"You have only told me scraps so far. I don't understand how you can arrive at the conclusion that Garvington is guilty. Agnes, don't go on crying in so unnecessary a way. If things have to be faced, surely we are strong enough to face them. Don't let our emotions make fools of us. Stop it! Stop it!" he said sharply and stamping. "Dry your eyes and explain matters."
"I—I can't help my feelings," faltered Agnes, beginning to respond to the spur, and becoming calmer.
"Yes, you can. I don't offer you brandy or smelling salts, or anything of the sort, because I know you to be a woman with a firm mind. Exert your will, and compel your nerves to be calm. This exhibition is too cheap."
"Oh," cried Agnes indignantly, and this feeling was the one Lambert wished to arouse, "how can you talk so?"
"Because I love you and respect you," he retorted.