She paused to give Stonor a chance to speak—but he was dumb.
Naturally she misunderstood. “Isn’t that enough?” she cried painfully. “I have told you the essential truth. Must I go into particulars? I can’t bear to speak of these things!”
“No! No!” he said, horrified. “It’s not that. I don’t want to hear any more.”
“Then you’ll help me?”
“I will take you to him.”
She began to cry in a pitiful shaken way.
“Ah, don’t!” murmured Stonor. “I can’t stand seeing you.”
“It’s—just from relief,” she whispered.… “I’ve been under a strain.… I think I should have gone out of my mind—if I had been prevented from expiating the wrong I did.… I wish I could tell you—he’s the bravest man in the world, I think—and the most unhappy!… And I heaped unhappiness on his head!”
This was hard for Stonor to listen to, but it was so obviously a relief to her to speak, that he made no attempt to stop her.
She soon quieted down. “I shan’t try to thank you,” she said. “I’ll show you.”