She bowed her dark head in assent.
"You are very sure?" he asked.
"Very, very sure."
"So that it was not"—he hesitated as if he knew that he had no right to put the question—"it was not merely passion?"
Muriel looked straight into his eyes.
"It was so far from merely passion," she answered, "that I have only twice even so much as kissed him."
Stainton believed her now. His hand dropped from her arm. It seemed to him that she would have hurt him less had her love for von Klausen been baser.
There was a long pause.
"I see," said Stainton at last; and again: "I see."
He looked up at the high cliff bending far above them.