He drew a big soft arm-chair to the mounting blaze. Athalie stood motionless, staring at the flames, then with a sudden, nervous gesture she sank down on the arm-chair and covered her face with her gloved hands.
He stood waiting, happy and excited, and finally he went over and touched her; and the girl caught his hand convulsively in both of hers and looked up at him with wet eyes.
"How can I do this, Clive? How can I?" she whispered.
"Any brother would do as much for his sister—"
"Oh, Clive! You are different! You are more
than that. You know you are. How can I take all this? Will you tell me? How can I live here—this way—"
"Your sisters will be here. You saw their room just now—"
"But what can I tell them? How can I explain? They know we cannot afford such luxury as this?"
"Tell them the rent is the same."
"They won't believe it. They couldn't. They don't understand even now how it is with you and me—that you are so dear and generous and kind just because you are my friend—and no more than my friend.... Not that they really believe—anything—unpleasant—of me—but—but—"