“No,” he smiled. “You’ve jolly well earned the right to know. I’ll tell you.”
He was so big, so strong, so certain of himself that she wondered how, for a moment even, she could have thought him other than he was. With a sudden impulse of pride and tenderness, she rose, put her arms around his neck and bending his head down to hers kissed him upon the lips. He caught her to him and held her in his arms.
“O Cyril,” she murmured, “that I could ever have failed in my belief in you, that I could ever have thought that you were false! Why didn’t you tell me the truth? I would have kept your secret.”
“It was impossible, dear. It was too big a thing and I was sworn to silence. But since you found out——”
“Did you think me curious—” she asked naïvely, “because I read the cigarette papers?”
“Curious!” he laughed. “Well rather! The mistake I made was in tellin’ you not to read them. If I——”
“Don’t laugh at me,” she whispered. “I can’t stand that. The only retribution for what I did this afternoon is a blow. If you struck me, Cyril, I should not care.”
“But I won’t, you know, old girl. But I’m going to kiss you again if you don’t mind.”
And he did, while a shadow darkened her eyes. “It seems terrible to be happy, even in our moment of security, with the shadow of death hanging so closely over us. I know you had to kill him, Cyril, but——” She paused.
“It was either that or he would have killed me. As it was, it was too jolly close a thing for comfort. I gave the other man his chance, but he wouldn’t take it. Lucky he didn’t, for I might have missed the papers.”