"It was a mistake——" he said. "I would do anything to repair it."
He meant what he said and the deep tones of his voice vibrated close to her ear. She did not turn to look at him and kept her gaze on the fire, but she breathed uneasily and then closed her eyes a moment as though in deep thought.
"Don't you believe me, Moira?"
She glanced at him and then leaned forward, away—toward the fire.
"I believe that I do," she replied slowly. "I don't know why it is that I should be thinking so differently about you, but I do. You see, if I hadn't trusted you we'd never have been sitting here this night."
"I gave you your chance to be alone——"
"Yes. You did that. But I couldn't let you be going to a pension, Harry. I think it was the pity for your pale face against the pillows."
"Nothing else?" he asked quietly.
His hand had taken the fingers on the chair arm and she did not withdraw them at once.
"Sure and maybe it was the blarney."