His coming back to her after the departure of the guests last night shone on him in splendid colours of single-minded loverlike devotion. 'I came to speak to my own heart. I thought it would give you pleasure; thought I could trust you utterly. I had not the slightest conception I was imperilling my honour . . . !'
He stopped. Her bloodless fixed features revealed an intensity of anguish that checked him. Only her mouth, a little open for the sharp breath, appeared dumbly beseeching. Her large eyes met his like steel to steel, as of one who would die fronting the weapon.
He strangled a loathsome inclination to admire.
'So good bye,' he said.
She moved her lips.
He said no more. In half a minute he was gone.
To her it was the plucking of life out of her breast.
She pressed her hands where heart had been. The pallor and cold of death took her body.