“And will you give it?” she asked, below her breath.
“It would be worse than folly for me to try to withhold it,” he said, bitterly.
“I will stay with you, and go on living this life, if you wish.”
“And yourself?”
“I don’t count,” she said, “I must do as I am told.”
“Would you be happy with Everard?” he asked huskily.
“Yes—of course—I was before,” she replied. But her cheek grew paler.
“And you would stay, if I asked you, and share all this struggle and poverty with me?”
“How could I refuse? Don’t I owe you my life?”
He looked for a tremulous second into her pure eyes and knew that he was master of her fate. The condition she had imposed upon Everard was no graceful act of acknowledgment. It was a serious placing of her future in his hands. He was silent for a few moments, deep in agitated thought, trembling with a struggle against a fierce temptation. The hand that nervously tugged at his moustache was shaking. Yvonne read the anxious trouble on his face.