"But I know. Robert told me what you'd been to him, and—he didn't spare himself."
Stewart stared straight ahead of him.
"Poor Rob," he said. "Poor boy!"
Cary moved off to the window and looked out, absent-mindedly, folding the edge of the curtain with her fingers.
"It's all like a terrible dream," she said slowly, "and I keep thinking I'll awake. It doesn't seem possible. I keep remembering the time he saved us in that awful storm, years ago at home, and—it—doesn't—seem—possible!"
"No, but it's all too true," said Stewart.
Cary wheeled around, facing the room.
"And I am responsible. It was through his love for me!" she cried.
Stewart shook his head.
"You tried to help him. I tried to help him—all the fellows did, but he just let himself go. When a man like that wants something, he sweeps everything out of his way and rushes on blindly."