“I don’t,” Dick answered awkwardly, feeling that he was not getting on very well. “I know how kind you are and that you wouldn’t shirk any trouble. But still——”
“Suppose we don’t think it a trouble?”
Dick knitted his brows. It was hard to believe that the girl who sat watching him with a puzzled look was an adventuress. He had made her blush, and had come near to making her angry, while an adventuress would not have shown her feelings so easily. The light that shone through the window touched her face, and he noted its delicate modeling, the purity of her skin, and the softness of her eyes. The sparkle had gone, and they were pitiful. Clare had forgiven his ingratitude because he was ill.
“Well,” he said, “what you think doesn’t alter the fact that I have given you trouble and kept you awake looking after me at night. I wasn’t always quite sensible, but I remember how often you sat here and brought me cool things to drink. Indeed, I expect you helped to save my life.” He paused and resumed in a voice that thrilled with feeling: “This wasn’t all you did. When I was having a very bad time before I left England and everybody believed the worst, you sent me a letter saying that you knew I was innocent.”
“You told me you tore up the letter,” Clare remarked quietly.
Dick’s face got red. He had not taken the line he meant to take and was obviously making a mess of things.
“Are you sure I wasn’t delirious?”
“I don’t think so. Did you tear up the letter?”
He gave her a steady look, for he saw that he must nerve himself to face the situation. It was unfortunate that he was too ill to deal with it properly, but he must do the best he could.
“I’ll answer that if you’ll tell me how you knew I was innocent.”