"Henry, don't you see that I was only playing for a purpose all the time? And if you've opened the eyes of Nelly to the fact that you truly love her and I've been only acting out of a heartless sham—why, I'm glad of it—I rejoice, Henry, I swear I do!"
He came forward, smiling, and held out his hand; Lord Nick struck it down, and Donnegan shrank back, holding his wrist tight in the fingers of his other hand.
"Is it possible?" murmured Henry Reardon. "Is it possible that she loves a man who despises her?"
"Not that! If any other man said this to me, I'd call for an explanation of his meaning, Henry. No, no! I honor and respect her, I tell you. By heaven, Nick, she has a thread of pure, generous gold in her nature!"
"Ah?"
"She has saved my life no longer ago than this morning."
"It's perfect," said Lord Nick. And he writhed under a torment. "I am discarded for the sake of a man who despises her!"
Donnegan, frowning with thought, watched his older brother. And still the thin singing entered the room, that matchless old melody of "Robin Adair;" the day shall never come when that song does not go straight from heart to heart. But because Donnegan still listened to it, Lord Nick felt that he was contemptuously received, and a fresh spur was driven into his tender pride.
"Donnegan!" he said sharply.
Donnegan raised his hand slowly.