"I did what I thought was best," he said shortly. "Do I not share your danger?"
She shrugged.
"With regret, with impatience, but without tenderness, mon brave. Do you suppose that I cannot see? I am merely an impediment. I hold you back while you long to be off yonder--to escape and leave me here----"
"Zoya----"
She laughed and rose.
"Beware of the fury of the woman scorned, mon vieux. Tell me that you love me, tell me that you hate--but indifference--that, at least, I will not bear!"
There was nothing for it but to mollify her. He put his arm around her and kissed her.
"Hang it all, Zoya! You ought to know me by this time," he muttered. "Desperation and sentiment won't mix. I'm not going to be caught here if I can help it----"
She relaxed a little in his arms.
"Philippe," she murmured, "you know the worst of me. Don't judge me with those terrible accusing eyes of yours. I want to begin--again. Give me my chance to forget. I love you, mon Philippe, since the first----"