"If I did, it's not vital to you. It does not bring you rest. How clearly I see that!"
Bedient turned aside from her tearful searching eyes. He was facing the old battle; and yet a certain uplift came from her brave spirit. It was one of the big intimate warmths of the world, one of the fine moments of life in the world. Her giving was true. He could think of no other who could have helped him in this way, save Vina Nettleton. These two had not entered his mind together before. And they were unlike in every way, except in their pure quality of giving.
"Please tell me that other matter now—why you were so good to me, even on the steamer?"
"But I want you to rest."
"I would rest better——"
Miss Mallory looked up at him for a moment, and embarrassment came to her face—different from any look of hers before.
"It was in New York…. I wore a white net waist and a big bunch of English violets," she said, watching him. "It seems very long ago, but it isn't—hardly ten weeks. There was darkness and Hedda was telling young Lövborg to drink wine and get vine-leaves in his hair——"
"And you were the one?" Bedient said.
"'So fleet the works of men, back to their earth again,
Ancient and holy things fade like a dream,'"
she repeated.