"A man in my case will dare anything. Besides, you have insight enough to have known it these many weeks; and why should the plain statement anger you, when evidently the plain fact does not?—Tell me that."
The question smote her to silence. For she could not tell him: neither could she answer hotly and break with him for good. Throughout the coming week, at least, their intimacy must remain intact; and beyond it her mind refused to look. She saw herself caught in a tangle of her own making: a hot wave of vexation at her helplessness, at her cruelly false position, fired her face from chin to brow.
But Garth, noting the phenomenon, interpreted it otherwise.
"You find my riddle unanswerable?" he questioned almost tenderly: and was met by a lightning-flash of denial.
"No. By no means! The answer is simple enough. Unhappily you cannot wipe out—the fact. But you can avoid expressing it: and you must,—unless you are prepared to lose everything."
"By Jove, no!—I keep what I have gained,—at any price. And at least your proffer of friendship gives me better right to monopolise you than that chap Desmond can lay claim to. But he appears to be privileged."
"He is privileged."
"How so?"
"Simply by being the right sort of man."
Garth scrutinised her keenly.