Bylant was propped up in the bed, very pale and thin, but he smiled whimsically and put out his hand. She shook it limply and sank down into a chair by the bed, her gaze wandering to the window.
His voice was as whimsical as his eyes. “You served me right, my dear,” he said. “Don’t imagine I’ve held it against you for a moment.”
“Of course I didn’t know it was you,” she muttered.
“Of course not! And I hope you won’t hesitate to shoot the next man who breaks into your house. Be sure it will not be I!”
Gita stirred uneasily. But she was relieved that the interview was not to be pitched in the tragic key. Trust Eustace to carry anything off!
“It is I who should ask to be forgiven,” he continued. “But I went progressively mad after you left. Do you remember a book I once gave you to read—‘The Cave Man Within Us’? Well, the cave man in me got the best of several centuries of superimpositions. I remember Darwin says somewhere that man, even in the best of our poor civilizations, is so close to the incalculable æons of savagery behind us, the wonder is the veneer remains on him at all. But I promise you that my veneer shan’t rub off again.”
“Your psychology failed you,” said Gita dryly.
“It did!” he said smiling. “It did!”
She thrust out her foot and gazed at the toe of her shoe. She reminded herself she must not excite him but she would have liked a “show-down” then and there.
She glanced up. He was looking at her pleadingly.