"And what would you do in her place, in such a predicament?"
"I should not be in it, because when he asked me to marry him I should tell him everything."
"Perhaps that is just what she will do. Knowing her intimately as you do, can you think that she would act meanly and deceitfully? I can't."
Janey avoided his searching glance, and made no answer.
"You can't either," he said tranquilly. "And do you think she would lie about it?"
"No," said Janey slowly, against her will.
"Then let us, at any rate, give her her chance of telling him herself."
He got up slowly, and Janey did the same. He saw that her stubbornness though shaken was not vanquished, and that he should obtain no assurance from her that she would be silent.
"And let us give this man, whoever he may be, his chance too," he said, taking her hand and holding it. He felt it tremble, and his heart ached for her. He had guessed. "The chance of being loyal, the chance of being tender, generous, understanding. Do not let us wreck it by interference. This is a matter which lies between her and him, and between her and him only. It may be the making of him. It would have been the making of me if I could but have taken it—my great chance—if I had not preferred to sacrifice her, in order to be a sham hero."