Her voice, low and strained, drove straight to his heart.
"Myra, I never thought—it's a man's trip just now, darling. I—couldn't take you with me," he stammered miserably. "Passports are almost impossible to get; and then conditions over there——"
She backed away from him, her arms stiff at her sides.
"When were you—planning to go?"
He stared at her pitifully.
"Beloved, don't look at me that way!"
"When were you planning to go?" she repeated.
"Next week," he said in an altered voice. "I never thought you would take it this way. I never thought—it's a great chance."
"That's what I once told you," she said slowly, and turned away that he might not see her face. "Don't touch me!" she cried as he came nearer. "Don't! I've been nervous all day, and lonely." She tried to control herself, but as his arms went around her, she began to sob like a hurt child. "If you leave me, I shall die. I can't bear it. I know it's wicked of me." Her words reached him brokenly. "It's only because you're all I have. I've given up everything; and now——"
He stood very still, staring into space, his hold on her never loosening. She stumbled on, confessing what had lain hidden in her heart until this moment. She told him things she had never thought she could betray to any one—things she had never even dared formulate. When she had done, he said in a strange, gentle voice: