"It is true."
He bent forward a little, her soft hazel eyes impelling him.
"Shall I tell you," he said softly, "what I mean? Nay! I think you know already."
"I do not," she persisted.
"My father's honour went to town too."
"Ah!"
She was remembering.
"And you?"
"The honour of Berrington was the idol my grandfather worshipped. I took it—as a trust."
"You loved him—old Sir Henry?"