He could not now pretend it wasn't.
'I—I'm sickeningly sorry,' he muttered. 'I'm an ass ... a brute ... telling you the whole story like that.... Oh, I do wish I hadn't. If only you'd stopped me.'
Alix pulled her dazed faculties together. She was occupied in trying not to be sick. It was unfortunate: strong emotion often took her like that; in that too she was like Paul.
'I d-didn't know,' she stammered. 'I never knew before how Paul died. They never said ... just said shot....'
He could have bitten his tongue out now.
'You mustn't believe it, please.... Sandomir wasn't the name ... it was my mistake.... Sandberg—that was it.'
'They never said,' Alix repeated. She felt remote from him and his remorse, emptied of pity and drained of all emotions, only very sick, and her hands were as cold as fishes.
A little way in front Evie and Basil were laughing together. A robin sang on a swaying bough. Alix thought how sad he was. She had a sore throat and a headache. The mist clung round, clammy and cold, like her hands....
'I don't know what to say,' Ingram was muttering. 'There's nothing to say....'
Alix stopped walking. The sky went dark.