"Unless—she cared in the real big way," Roy interposed; his own pain goading him to an unfair hit at her. "To be blunt, I suppose it's the case—of Lance over again. You've found ... you don't love me enough——?"
"And you——?" she struck back, turning on him the cool deliberate look of early days. "Do you love me enough? Do you care—as he did?"
"No—not as he did. I've cared blindly, passionately—somehow we didn't seem to meet on any other plane. In fact, it ... it was realising how magnificently Lance cared ... and how little you seemed able to appreciate the fact, that made me feel—as I did, down there. In a sense, he's been barring the way ... ever since...."
"Roy! How strange!" She faced him now, the mask of repression flung aside. "It's been the same—with me!"
"With you?"
"Yes. Ever since I heard ... he was gone, he has haunted me to distraction. I've seemed to see him and feel him in quite a different way."
"Good Lord!" Roy murmured—incredulous, amazed. "Human beings are the queerest things. If only ... you'd felt like that ... sooner——?"
"Yes—if only I had——!" she lamented frankly, looking straight before her.
"I'm glad—you told me," said her unaccountable lover.
"I nearly—didn't. But when you said that, I felt it might—ease things. And that was his great wish—wasn't it?—to ease things ... for us both. Oh—was there ever any one ... quite like him?"