He raised himself on his pillows, stretching out hands that twitched.
"You haven't, Babs! If you want me——"
"Not at that price, darling. If my love for you were everything—there's something else. I don't know what it is.… But I've not come to upset you again. Last night I told you that I'd come to you from the ends of the world, if you were ill. Tell me what's the matter, Eric."
She pulled a chair to the bed and gave him her hand, which he covered with kisses.
"I'm broken up! I'm sorry; you can despise me, if you like," he cried. "I can't afford to lose you, Babs: I love you too much."
The tears were standing in his eyes, and the sight steadied her. Pillowing his head on her breast, she ran her fingers through his hair, caressing and soothing him like a child.
"I've done this.… You must forgive me, Eric," she whispered. "I didn't see what I was doing; until quite lately I didn't see that you cared for me at all—not to matter, I mean—you were always sweet to me, of course. If I'd known how I was hurting you … Won't you wait, Eric? I must let you go now, if you insist; I'm nerved up to it.… But is it worth it?"
Eric thought over the change that had come upon them since Christmas.
"No. I can't afford it," he answered wearily.
She bent down and kissed his forehead. Was the kiss rather mechanical? Eric lay with his eyes shut, trying to analyze the double change. Was a nervous break-down always like this? Barbara was stroking his head gently; she had kissed him compassionately, lovingly, but he had fancied a change in her, as though she, too, realized the completeness of his subjugation.