I leaned forward, my head in my hands.
"Elsin, I have endured these four years, now, a thousand little stings which I could not resent. Forgetting this, at moments I blurt out a truth which, were matters otherwise with me, I might back with—what is looked for when a man repeats what may affront his listener. It is, in a way, unworthy, as you say, that I speak lightly to you of a man I can not meet with honor to myself. Yet, Elsin, were my duty first to you—first even to myself—this had been settled now—this matter touching you and Walter Butler—and also my ancient score with him, which is as yet unreckoned."
"What keeps you, then?" she said, and her voice rang a little.
I looked at her; she sat there, proud head erect, searching me with scornful eyes.
"A small vow I made," said I carelessly.
"And when are you released, sir?"
"Soon, I hope."
"Then, Mr. Renault," she said disdainfully, "I pray you swallow your dislike of Captain Butler until such time as you may explain your enmity to him."
The lash stung. I sat dazed, then wearied, while the tingling passed. Even the silence tired me, and when I could command my voice I said: "Shall we descend, madam? There is a chill in the sea-air."
"I do not feel it," she answered, her voice not like her own.