Her delicious thrilling voice was a comfort to him. He lifted his breast high and thumped it, trying to smile. 'After all, it's pleasant being with you, Tony. Give me your hand—you may: I 'm bothered—confounded by this morning surprise. It was like walking against the muzzle of a loaded cannon suddenly unmasked. One can't fathom the mischief it will do. And I shall be suspected, and can't quite protest myself the spotless innocent. Not even to my heart's mistress! to the wife of the bosom! I suppose I'm no Roman. You won't give me your hand? Tony, you might, seeing I am rather...'
A rush of scalding tears flooded her eyes.
'Don't touch me,' she said, and forced her sight to look straight at him through the fiery shower. 'I have done positive mischief?'
'You, my dear Tony?' He doated on her face. 'I don't blame you, I blame myself. These things should never be breathed. Once in the air, the devil has hold of them. Don't take it so much to heart. The thing's bad enough to bear as it is. Tears! Let me have the hand. I came, on my honour, with the most honest intention to submit to your orders: but if I see you weeping in sympathy!'
'Oh! for heaven's sake,' she caught her hands away from him, 'don't be generous. Whip me with scorpions. And don't touch me,' cried Diana. 'Do you understand? You did not name it as a secret. I did not imagine it to be a secret of immense, immediate importance.'
'But—what?' shouted Dacier, stiffening.
He wanted her positive meaning, as she perceived, having hoped that it was generally taken and current, and the shock to him over.
'I had... I had not a suspicion of doing harm, Percy.'
'But what harm have you done? No riddles!'
His features gave sign of the break in their common ground, the widening gulf.