“Alone—?” The word breathed itself—and stopped, and Eldridge put out a hand. “Don’t tell me! I did not ask it.”
“Don’t you know?” She was looking at him.
“Yes, I know. I do not understand—but I know.”
She smiled and sat silent.... “I was frightened to come!” It seemed as if she were looking at the strangeness of it. “I was afraid—the first day—”
“You should have asked me to come,” he urged.
“Would you have come?”
“No—not then.”
“And I had to come! I could not wait—and there was—no one.... You would not have come—not even if I had waited.”
“No—I should not have come—except to find you.... Tell me, have you never been afraid of me—of what I would do?”
“The first day—yes—I was terribly frightened when you came in and sat over there,” she moved her hand. “I wanted to scream out—to go to you and tell you what it meant, and beg you not to be angry.... I had never done anything without you before. I was like a child! Then you went out and I hurried home. I tore off the things. I did not mind your knowing. I only wanted you to understand. I was afraid you might not—understand.”