He was on his guard again.
“I hope not. I’ve nothing to do with it. I shouldn’t go now, of course.”
“Do you mean you wouldn’t go with—Arthur?”
“I didn’t say that!”
“But you meant it.” She rose slowly to her feet. “I know you meant it!”
She stopped, for he had risen, too.
“Perhaps I did mean that; but can’t you understand there may be other reasons why I can’t go? I——” His face flushed no less deeply than hers, but he raised his head, and she was again aware of the fineness of his presence, his air of strength. “There are many reasons why I can’t bear to go,” he went on slowly. “There are reasons which—at this moment—are doubly painful. You must forgive me, have a little patience with me.”
She did not answer. She was trying to control herself, but she could not; tears suddenly rained down her cheeks.
“Diane!” he exclaimed in dismay.
She put her hand up, as if to ward off a blow.