"God help me hard now," he moaned.
She stood before him like a marble statue. There were no tears.
"I have been very bold," she murmured. "I can never forgive myself that."
"You have been wonderful!" he cried.
"Perhaps you had better go at once, Peter Donaldson," she said.
He saw her in a blinding white light.
"God keep you," he managed to say. "God keep you forever and ever."
He stumbled to the hall, found his hat, and staggered through the door.
At the hedge a shadow stole out to meet him. It was an ambitious young reporter.
"Is this Mr. Donaldson?" he asked.