Her voice had risen, she had drooped away from him and was crying without concealment. Eric lifted her hand to his lips and put an arm around her shoulders, drawing her to him until her cheek lay against his breast.
“You must steady yourself, Ivy! I warn you that, when any one cries, I’m always liable to join in!”
“You? I don’t mind what you do! You’ve been ripping to me—right from the first time we met... I hate men! I’d never tell any man what I’ve told you. I don’t know why you let me; you’ve better things to do, I should have thought.”
“Well, perhaps I hope that I may be useful. What happened then?”
Ivy dabbed jerkily at her eyes and tried to steady her voice.
“He said that, if I thought so badly of him, we’d better end the engagement,” she went on.
“There I agree with him.”
“I said I only asked him to behave properly to me. He said the whole thing was a mistake and, if I wouldn’t end it, he would. I said I wouldn’t let him!”
She wiped her eyes and began smoothing the front of her dress as though she had nothing to add. Eric got off the arm of her chair and stood facing her with his shoulders against the mantelpiece.
“Don’t think me prejudiced,” he began, “if I admit that I don’t greatly care for Gaymer, but believe me when I tell you that you’re very well out of it—”