"He cannot be a bad pilot with such a record. And in such calm weather there is little danger of an accident. We must be patient; there is nothing else to do at the moment, but wait!"
Saxham had feigned to misunderstand her, for very pity, you can conceive. Blurting out her miserable secret in this moment of unselfish sorrow, his heart was wrung in him to an anguish of compassion for Patrine. But no less was he wrung by the truth her words conveyed. His son and Lynette's was in the power of an evil man! What was David's daughter saying?
"Uncle Owen!" The tall figure of Sherbrand had moved away into the reddish twilight, and a wild desire of confession spurred on the girl to desperate frankness of speech. She hurried on, nerving herself to the change that would presently show in Saxham. "Uncle Owen! I think you had better know! Since I met him in Paris I——"
"Stop!" said Saxham. But she would not stop. She had his blood in her, and went on, though to have set her naked foot on glowing iron would have been easier than to tell.
"I have flirted with him!—gone alone with him to restaurants and music-halls!—let him take me to the Upas!"—there was a tightness like knotted whipcord about her throat; "That's—not the worst!"
"I guessed it. Stop!" Saxham repeated:
"Who told?"—she faltered brokenly, and shivered at the deep stern whisper:
"No one told, but the reputation of the—man is known to me. His type does not hesitate where a woman's virtue is concerned."
A great sigh burst from her. "And you can speak to me and touch me kindly—you don't hate the sight of me?"
"No, my poor girl, God forbid!"