She felt the grasp of the man’s fingers slacken and saw his arm fall to his side. His face changed suddenly, growing stern and set, until he turned his head away. When he looked round again the weariness was once more plain in it, and she almost fancied he had checked a groan.
“You have brought me back to myself,” he said. “Only a few seconds ago I could think of nothing but what you had done for me. I think I was almost as happy as a man could be, and now——”
Hetty laid her hand on his shoulder. “And now? Tell me, Larry.”
“No,” said the man. “You have plenty of troubles of your own.”
The grasp of the little hand grew tighter, and when Grant looked up he saw the girl smiling down on him half-shyly, and yet, as it were, imperiously.
“Tell me, dear,” she said.
Larry felt his heart throb, and his resolution failed him. He could see the girl’s eyes, and their compelling tenderness.
“Well,” he said, huskily, “what I have dreaded has come. The men I have given up everything for have turned against me. No, you must not think I am sorry for what I have done, and it was right then; but they have listened to some of the crazy fools from Europe and are letting loose anarchy. I and the others—the sensible Americans—have lost our hold on them, and yet it was we who brought them in. We took on too big a contract—and I’m most horribly afraid, Hetty.”
The light had almost gone, but his face still showed drawn and white and Hetty bent down nearer him.
“Put your hand in mine, Larry,” she said softly. “I have something to tell you.”