"Bryce," she said, "they're coming. It's our last time together. Don't let's spend it like this."
"Did you—" he asked her so tenderly that it sounded like a caress, "did you, in some terrible emergency, in some defense, dear, of yourself, Christina—did you fire that shot?"
Her head swung back; she did not answer.
"My darling, if you did we must just take counsel whether to fight or to run. Don't be afraid. The world's before us. Christina, did you?"
"No, no, no!" she whispered. "I did not!" She felt his quiver of relief, and her nervous hands closed on his sleeve. "Oh, if you only knew. There is a thing I long to tell you! But not that! Oh, if I could trust you!"
"Can't you?"
"I mean—trust you to see things as I do! To do only what I ask! What I chose—not what was best for me! Suppose that some one whom—Bryce?"
"Yes?"
"If any one should hear—"
"There is no one to hear."