Steve stood like stone. “No, nothing.”
She broke the silence that fell.
“I thought there was—there might be. I hoped—there might be. You do not know how terribly I feel. I hoped there might be some way for me to help you, to atone for my wicked folly. I did not know——”
Her voice failed again, and she put her handkerchief quickly to her eyes.
Steve, up to this time, had not volunteered a word or stirred from where he stood. His heart began to relent, and he felt that he must say something.
“You need not reproach yourself,” he said. “I have not done so. It was my folly, not yours.”
“Oh, no, no! I will not let you say that,” she broke out, vehemently. “You trusted me. You have been only brave and noble. But I did not know! I thought, when I told it, it would help you. You will believe that, will you not?”
She came a step or two nearer in her intensity, and gazed at him earnestly.
“Yes, if you say so,” said Steve.