With a sigh she rose to her feet.
Then, quite suddenly, her calmness fell away from her.
"Theo—Theo," she protested, "if you really persist in this, and carry it through, I don't think I shall ever forgive you."
The pain in her voice was more than he could bear.
"For God's sake spare me that!" he pleaded. "I am losing enough as it is."
And now his hands went out to her irresistibly, in the old impulsive fashion, that seemed an echo from a former life.
With superlative courage she turned and surrendered both her own. She wanted to prove herself, at all points, simply his friend; and he gave her no cause to repent of her courage, or to suspect the strong restraint he put upon himself during that brief contact, which, at a moment so charged with emotion, might well have proved fatal to them both.
"Thank you, Honor," he said quietly.
But for her, speech was impossible. She bowed her head, and left him standing alone, with the dregs of victory.
On reaching the blessed shelter of her own room she bolted the door; and for once in her life grief had its way with her unhindered.