“I am sorry for you, James Brood,” she murmured, suddenly relaxing. Her body swayed against the table, and then she sank limply into the chair alongside.
“Yvonne!”
“You will never forget that you struck a man who was asleep, absolutely asleep, James Brood. That's why I am sorry for you.”
“Asleep!” he murmured, putting his hand to his eyes. “Yes, yes—he was asleep! Yvonne, I—I have never been so near to loving him as I am now. I—I———”
“I am going up to him. Don't try to stop me. But first let me ask you a question. What did Frederic say when you told him his mother was was what you claim?”
Brood lowered his head.
“He said that I was a cowardly liar.”
“And it was then that you began to feel that you loved him. Ah, I see what it is that you need, James. You are a great, strong man, a wonderful man in spite of all this. You have a heart—a heart that still needs breaking before you can ever hope to be happy.”
“As if my heart hasn't already been broken,” he groaned.
“Your head has been hurt, that's all. There is a vast difference. Are you going out?”