Brent leant over towards her.
“Manon,” he said, “can you understand a man who has been a failure wanting to do something that is good and unselfish? Can’t you understand him craving for a clean taste of life in his mouth?”
“I can understand it,” she answered.
“Good God—do we always sit down and work out a sum on paper? Aren’t there bits of fine madness in life—glorious things that seem mad to the careful people?”
She held out a hand.
“My friend, forgive me; but I have been a woman to whom many men have made love. The fools do it so easily and they expect a woman to be flattered and to surrender just as one opens a door.”
Brent grasped her hand.
“Then—I may stay?”
“Yes.”
He threw up his head with an air of pride, and a flash of half-boyish exultation.