“Dave, I'll call the nurse!” she said in a low voice. “You'll—you'll make me cry.”
It was true. The dark eyes were swimming, full of tears. She hid them now suddenly with their long lashes.
Neither spoke for a moment.
“There's something else, then, Teresa,” he said at last. “I'm going to give that money back.”
There was no answer—only he felt her hand touch his head, and her fingers play gently through his hair.
“I knew it,” she told him.
“But do you know why?” he asked.
Again there was no answer.
Dave Henderson spoke again.
“I remember what I said last night—that I couldn't buy you that way. And—and I'm not trying to now. It's going back because I haven't any choice. A man can't take his life from a woman's hand, and from the hand of a friend take the life of the woman who has saved him—and throw them both down—and play the cur. I haven't any choice.” His voice broke suddenly. “It's going back, Teresa, whether it means you or not. Do you understand, Teresa? It's going back—either way.”