She made no move to dismount. She did not look at him. "I—I have had a bad night," she murmured. "I came to throw myself on your generosity."
"Generosity?" he echoed.
"To—to ask you to forget what happened last night. I was mad!"
Ambrose had become as pale as she. He had nothing to say.
She stole a glance at his face. At the sight of his blank, sick dismay she quickly turned her head. A little color came back to her cheeks.
There was a silence.
At last he said huskily: "What has happened to change you?"
"Nothing," she murmured. "I have come to my senses." His stony face and his silence terrified her. "Aren't you a little relieved?" she faltered. "It must have been a kind of madness in you, too."
He raised a sudden, penetrating glance to her face. She could not meet it. It came to him that he was being put to a test. The revulsion of feeling made him brutal. Striding forward, he seized her horse by the rein.
"Get off!" he harshly commanded.