"You seem hedged about with mysteries this evening," he remarked, a trifle curtly. "I confess I like daylight, and straight roads."
"Not more than I do, Theo. But you have said you can trust me; and at least I can assure you that there was no question of personal reluctance. Whatever Evelyn's failings may be, I know that you are the one big thing in her life."
Desmond compressed his lips, and looked down thoughtfully at the bearskin under his feet; while Honor allowed her eyes to dwell on the goodly lines of his face. Then he squared his shoulders and looked up at her.
"Honor—if that is true—and I think it is—you are bound to let me help her by the only means in my power. Give me back that promise of mine. I am strong enough now to tackle the subject; and I warn you fairly that I mean to have my own way. So don't waste time by beating about the bush."
The unexpected attack unbalanced her, and the blood left her face; but there was no hint of yielding in her eyes. They were equally matched these two—strength for strength; will for will. The ultimate victory might rest with either.
"Theo!" she protested, "you can ask that of me—to-day?"
"Yes, precisely—to-day. My mistake—my selfishness, has been very painfully brought home to me in the last hour; and I don't ask it of you—I demand it."
Honor drew herself up to her full height.
"You cannot command it, though," she said quietly. "And—I refuse."