He came a step towards her and saw her draw back, as it were, involuntarily. “Have I not made you understand yet? Perhaps a little documentary evidence will assist you?” He took a quick step towards her, looked at her full, and said in a different voice, “Raymond, I’m in dead earnest—dead sober earnest.” Then with a sudden movement he turned away and went across to the safe in the far corner of the chamber. With his back to Raymond he unlocked it, and occupied himself for a minute or two with the picking out of some papers. When he turned she was at the gate with her hand on it. He spoke at once in his most ordinary voice:
“That’s a safety-catch. It won’t open without the key.”
“Will you open it, please?”
He said, “No, Raymond,” in a tone of cool finality, and she lost colour a little.
“Jeffrey,” she began, then paused and bit her lip.
“Raymond.”
A scarlet patch of anger came suddenly to her cheek and she was silent until it had died again. Long years of self-control do not go for nothing. When she spoke at last there was only sadness in her voice:
“Jeffrey, I have valued our friendship—very much.”
“I hope,” he said, “that you will value my love even more.”
Her hand dropped from the door. She did not answer. The hope of moving him died. She drew her cloak about her, crossed the floor slowly, and seated herself in the chair. She did not look at Ember.