She looked up at him and smiled.
“I was just such a rough dog then; it was sympathy I wanted, and the sympathy you gave me won me the prize at Rennes.”
If he had read her thoughts his words could not have touched the woman in her more.
“You are right in reproaching me,” she said.
“I? What reproach have I to make? You showed me my true self two days ago. I have learned to take hard blows—when they are given honestly.”
Their eyes met.
“Yet—there is the other self.”
He steadied himself against the prie-dieu.
“Let me tell you the whole truth, as I blurted it out to you at Motte Broon. I’ll not spare myself; it would do me good.”
She met him bravely with her eyes.