“Tell me,” he said; “speak to me. In this spy theory, however, he had no faith whatsoever. Her mind turned and accused itself of having been cold and hard. “Perhaps,” he said, “I have been to blame. He was afraid if he stayed that he would make a fool of himself. It ought not to be much. She heard this standard expression of a strong soul wrung with a critical coldness that astonished herself. They were both dressed in every respect alike. Or had she, like himself, been held up until the fellow returned to town? He waited, his ready humour anticipating her likely reaction. “I have been very selfish,” she declared. ’ A panel slid open and she stepped into the relative light of the little dressingroom, Kimble close behind her. It is better as it is. All the fury had left her, swamped by an inexplicable flood of warmth. She felt draggled and insulted beyond redemption.
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