There was another painful interval of silence. Then:
"May I speak to Captain Hallam about you?"
"No, thank you!" he said contemptuously, "I am currying no favours."
Hurt, she shrank away, and the blood mounted to her temples.
"You see," he said, "I'm just a plain brute, and there's no use being kind to me." He added in a lower voice, but deliberately: "You once found out that."
She quivered and straightened up.
"Yes," she said, "I found that out. I have paid very dearly for my—my—" But she could not continue.
Watching her, cap hanging in his gauntleted hand, he saw the colour deepen and deepen in neck and cheek, saw her eyes falter, and turn from him.
"Is there any forgiveness for me?" he said. "I didn't ask it before—because I've still some sense of the ludicrous left in me—or did have. It's probably gone now, since I've asked if it is in you to pardon—" He shrugged again, deeming it useless; and she made no sign of comprehension.
For a while he stood, looking down at his cap, turning it over and over, thoughtfully.