“Then I will come back here.”
“That you will not,” said Christian.
He drew in his breath as if he had been struck.
“What are you that you should betray me, and yet think to force yourself on me without my resenting it? What do you think I am that I should suffer it?”
She laughed.
“I have not betrayed you,” said he in a husky voice.
The loyal worship he had given her unquestioning through the long dependence and the small but poignant vicissitudes of childhood came back on him like a returning tide and doubled the cruelty of her words. She was the one person against whom he felt unable to defend himself. He loved her truly, and the thought of absolute separation from her came over him like a chill.
“I did not think you could speak to me in this way. It is terrible!” he said. His dark eyes were full of pain. He spoke as simply as a little boy.
Satisfaction stole back to her. She had not lost her hold on him, would not lose it. Another woman might have flung an affectionate word into the balance to give the final clip to the scale, but she never thought of doing that; neither impulse nor calculation suggested it, because affection was not the weapon she was accustomed to trust. Her faith was in the heavy hand. Her generalship was good enough to tell her the exact moment of wavering in the enemy in front, the magic instant for a fresh attack.
“You are a bitter disappointment,” she said. “Life has brought me many, but you are the greatest. I have had to go without some necessities in my time, and I now shall have to go without you. But I can do it, and I will.”