“Because he... saw you expected it of him. Ivy, you said this morning that you’d told me everything...” She covered her face with both hands as though he had struck her. “Dear child, I’m not asking for the pleasure of torturing you!”
She hurried on without answering by word or nod, and Eric had his answer.
“You poor child!,” he whispered. “Ivy, I promised to help you, if I could; you know that this makes no difference, don’t you? Except that I’m a thousand times more anxious to help you. I’ll help you in any way I can. But you must help me to help you; you have to put all your courage into this—”
“I can’t! I want to die!,” she sobbed.
“Don’t talk like that! This is a frightful thing for you, but you must see it in perspective. When once you’ve the pluck to recognize it’s all over... You’ve told no one else; no one else has guessed, no one else will ever know—”
“But they can’t help it!”
“Ivy—”
Eric looked at her, and the glib solace died on his lips.
“Ivy, pull yourself together and listen to me!” he whispered. “You’re not to tell a soul till I give you leave! Do you promise? I want time to think this out. And it’s going to be thought out, we’re going to win on this. I swear to you that I’ll see you through this somehow. Do you believe me?”
His vehemence steadied her, and she nodded quickly: