"N-no; it's gone."
"Then we'll find even firmer ground."
"Yes—firmer ground, Mr. Hamil."
He released her chilled hands, swung around, and took a thoughtful step or two.
"Firmer, safer ground," he repeated. "Once you said to me, 'Let us each enjoy our own griefs unmolested.'" He laughed. "Didn't you say that—years ago?"
"Yes."
"And I replied—years ago—that I had no griefs to enjoy. Didn't I? Well, then, if this is grief, Shiela, I wouldn't exchange it for another man's happiness. So, if you please, I'll follow your advice and enjoy it in my own fashion.... Shiela, you don't smile very often, but I wish you would now."
But the ghost of a smile left her pallor unchanged. She moved toward the stairs, wearily, stopped and turned.
"It cannot end this way," she said; "I want you to know how—to know—to know that I—am—sensible of w-what honour you have done me. Wait! I—I can't let you think that I—do not—care, Mr. Hamil. Believe that I do!—oh, deeply. And forgive me—" She stretched out one hand. He took it, holding it between both of his for a moment, lightly.
"Is all clear between us, Calypso dear?"