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He
felt
the
red
in
his
own
face
as
he
recalled
the
motive
with
which
he
had
credited
her
in
his
midnight
musings
.
But
that
motive
,
after
all
,
had
simply
been
trumped
up
to
justify
his
own
disloyalty
:
he
had
never
really
believed
in
it
.
The
reflection
deepened
his
confusion
,
and
he
would
have
liked
to
take
her
hand
in
his
and
confess
the
injustice
he
had
done
her
.
She
may
have
interpreted
his
change
of
colour
as
an
involuntary
protest
at
being
initiated
into
such
shabby
details
,
for
she
went
on
with
a
laugh
:
“
I
suppose
you
can
hardly
understand
what
it
means
to
have
to
stop
and
think
whether
one
can
afford
a
telegram
?
But
I
’
ve
always
had
to
consider
such
things
.
And
I
mustn
’
t
stay
here
any
longer
now
—
I
must
try
to
get
a
night
train
for
Joigny
.
Even
if
the
Farlows
can
’
t
take
me
in
,
I
can
go
to
the
hotel
:
it
will
cost
less
than
staying
here
.
”
She
paused
again
and
then
exclaimed
:
“
I
ought
to
have
thought
of
that
sooner
;
I
ought
to
have
telegraphed
yesterday
!
But
I
was
sure
I
should
hear
from
them
today
;
and
I
wanted
—
oh
,
I
did
so
awfully
want
to
stay
!
”
She
threw
a
troubled
look
at
Darrow
.
“
Do
you
happen
to
remember
,
”
she
asked
,
“
what
time
it
was
when
you
posted
my
letter
?
”
Darrow
was
still
standing
on
her
threshold
.
As
she
put
the
question
he
entered
the
room
and
closed
the
door
behind
him
.
His
heart
was
beating
a
little
faster
than
usual
and
he
had
no
clear
idea
of
what
he
was
about
to
do
or
say
,
beyond
the
definite
conviction
that
,
whatever
passing
impulse
of
expiation
moved
him
,
he
would
not
be
fool
enough
to
tell
her
that
he
had
not
sent
her
letter
.
He
knew
that
most
wrongdoing
works
,
on
the
whole
,
less
mischief
than
its
useless
confession
;
and
this
was
clearly
a
case
where
a
passing
folly
might
be
turned
,
by
avowal
,
into
a
serious
offense
.
“
I
’
m
so
sorry
—
so
sorry
;
but
you
must
let
me
help
you
.
.
.
.
You
will
let
me
help
you
?
”
he
said
.
He
took
her
hands
and
pressed
them
together
between
his
,
counting
on
a
friendly
touch
to
help
out
the
insufficiency
of
words
.
He
felt
her
yield
slightly
to
his
clasp
,
and
hurried
on
without
giving
her
time
to
answer
.
“
Isn
’
t
it
a
pity
to
spoil
our
good
time
together
by
regretting
anything
you
might
have
done
to
prevent
our
having
it
?
”
She
drew
back
,
freeing
her
hands
.
Her
face
,
losing
its
look
of
appealing
confidence
,
was
suddenly
sharpened
by
distrust
.
“
You
didn
’
t
forget
to
post
my
letter
?
”
Darrow
stood
before
her
,
constrained
and
ashamed
,
and
ever
more
keenly
aware
that
the
betrayal
of
his
distress
must
be
a
greater
offense
than
its
concealment
.
