“Can’t I do anything?”
“No. I have an eye-wash which I used to carry with me, but it is so long since I have had a return of my trouble that I have stopped carrying it.”
“What causes it?”
“Usually a shock. It’s purely nervous.”
“But there was no shock now, was there?” said Leonore, feeling so guilty that she felt it necessary to pretend innocence.
Peter pulled himself together instantly and, leaning over, began deliberately to gather up the fragments of the cup. Then he laid the pieces on the tea-table and said: “I was dreadfully frightened when I felt the cup slipping. It was very stupid in me. Will you try to forgive me for breaking one of your pretty set?”
“That’s nothing,” said Leonore. To herself that young lady remarked, “Oh, dear! It’s much worse than I thought. I shan’t dare say it to him, after all”
But she did, for Peter helped her, by going back to her original question, saying bravely: “I don’t know enough about Mr. Max —— the Englishman, to speak of him, but I think I would not suspect men of that, even if they are poor.”
“Why not?”
“Because it would be much easier, to most men, to love you than to love your money.”