"Oh, Lenny ... I don't think you understand."
She had made him understand at last—and in the process had strangely enough recovered something of her self-control. At first she had thought his brain could never receive this ghastly new impression; but gradually she had seen the colour fade from his lips, while a terrible sternness crept into his eyes; she had seen his hand go up to his forehead with the swift yet uncertain movement of one who has been smitten.
"My God!"
Leonard stepped back from the bed.
She lay gazing at him like a drowning woman. She saw the stern lines of his mouth—had girls any right to expect their brothers to forgive them such things? Yet if Lenny turned from her ... if she lost not only Quentin but the boys....
For a moment there was silence in the little room, with its faded reds and casement open to the fields.
Then suddenly Leonard sprang forward, stooped, and caught Janey in his arms, turning her face to his breast.
They clung together in silence, both trembling. The first faint wind of the evening crept in and ruffled their hair.
"You won't love me so much now."
"I will love you more—but, by God! I'll kill that man!"