She would not confess to herself that what she was really fighting was the memory of the dead girl, or, if she confessed at all, it was to console herself with the thought that it was right for him now to "cheer up a little."
Cheer up he did; it was curious to watch the rapidity with which he responded to Lizzie's energy and humour and vitality.
At last she challenged him:
"Well, what about Dr. Orloff?" she asked.
He looked at her with a sudden startled glance, then almost under his breath he said: "I don't go any more; I thought you didn't want me to."
So sudden a confession of her power took her breath away. She asked her next question.
"But Margaret?" she said. He answered that as though he were arguing some long-debated question with himself:
"I don't know," he replied slowly. "You were right. That wasn't the proper way to bring her back, even though it were genuine. I must tell you, Miss Rand," he said suddenly flinging up his head and looking across at her, "you've shown me so many things since we first met. I was getting into a very bad way, indulging myself in my grief. Margaret wouldn't have liked that either, but it wasn't until I knew you that I saw what I was doing. Thank you."
"Oh, you mustn't!" She shook her head. "You mustn't take me for Gospel like that Mr. Lapsley. You make me frightened for my responsibility. We are friends, and we must help one another, but we must keep our independence."