XXV
When Farley had left the room Briggs sank on the couch. Now that he was alone with Helen, all his buoyancy disappeared. His face looked haggard; the hard lines around his mouth deepened.
Helen rose and sat beside him. “Douglas,” she said.
He did not reply.
“I couldn’t say anything while they were here,” Helen went on, “but I’m sorry. Perhaps it’s all for the best.”
He drew away from her. “All for the best!” he repeated, hopelessly. “That’s a poor consolation. Do you know what it means to me? It means that I’ve lost my chance of redeeming myself. That’s the only reason why I wanted to be elected. I was sincere when I said I was sick of the life. But I thought if I could only go back there as an honest man and keep straight, then I could come to you and tell you I’d tried to make up for what I had done.”
“I understand that, Douglas,” Helen replied. “But it is all right now.”
“How is it all right?”
“With me, I mean. I love you all the more because you’ve failed.”