“Never mind,” she said, kindly. “I daresay we shall think of something to amuse you.”
She held out her hand again. He took it in his for the briefest possible instant, painfully conscious the while that his own hand was clammy from the emotion through which he had been passing.
“Good night.”
“Good night.”
Thank Heaven, she was gone. That let him out for another twelve hours at least.
A quarter of an hour later found Roland still sitting, where she had left him, his head in his hands. The groan of an overwrought soul escaped him.
“I can't do it!”
He sprang to his feet.
“I won't do it.”
A smooth voice from behind him spoke.