"I don't," she said sadly, "not if it's true. But I don't want to believe it. Why should one want to believe the worst, you and I, about anybody?"
Tatham kept an explosive silence for a moment, and then broke out hoarsely:
"Do you remember, we promised we'd be real friends?—we'd be really frank with each other? I've kept my bargain. Are you keeping it? Isn't there something you haven't told me!—something I ought to know?"
"No, nothing!" cried Lydia, with sudden energy. "You misunderstand—you offend me."
She drew her breath quickly. There were angry tears in her eyes, hidden by the hood.
A gust of passion swept through Tatham, revealing his manhood to itself. He stopped, caught her hands, and held them fiercely, imprisoned against his breast. She must needs look up at him; male strength compelled; they stood motionless a few seconds under the shadows of the trees.
"If there is nothing—if I do misunderstand—if I'm wrong in what I think—for God's sake listen to me—give me back my promise. I can't—I can't keep it!"
He stooped and kissed the fingers he held, once, twice, repeatedly; then turned away, shading his eyes with his hand.
Lydia said, with a little moan:
"Oh, Harry!—we've broken the spell."