"You weren't taking risks even then," he retorted. "Toujours le grand jeu. I could always get men to trust me ... put their lives in my hand. They knew I shouldn't let them down, but you could never stand your soul being seen naked...."
She broke in violently on his meditation.
"Why did you ever come here?" she demanded.
"Because I've lived in a world of dreams, Sonia. I've been poor and rich and poor again—that made no difference—but I fancied that one day you would need me——"
"You've insulted me ...!" she interrupted.
He laid his hand gently on her knee.
"If anyone had had the courage ten years ago to tell you what I've told you to-day, instead of spoiling you, petting you, filling your head with the idea that the whole world revolved round you——"
"Yet—you came out here——!" she put in mockingly, brushing his hand disdainfully away.
"There's a war on, Sonia," he answered. "Your old world's been blotted out. You'll find everything changed when you get back, and no niche for you to fill. Everything we value or love will have to be sacrificed, and you've never sacrificed anything but your friends. I came out here because I hoped the war would have sobered you. It might have been the making of you. It might have made a woman of you."
Nine days later they parted at Paddington. From Genoa they had taken an Italian boat to Marseilles, changed to a P. & O. and landed at Plymouth. Lady Dainton was engaged in turning Crowley Court into a hospital, and at Sir Roger's request I met Sonia, gave her a late luncheon, notified the Foreign Office of her return and put her on board a Melton train at Waterloo.