holding herself back from crossing the room and laying a hand on his shoulder, in token of their oneness at heart; but there, she felt, the forbidden line would be passed.  She could only wait—­it was not long—­till he was calm again.  Then he pulled himself together, got up heavily, and obviously refrained from looking her in the face.  In the act and the attitude there was something so boylike, so natural, so entirely lacking in the dignity of grief, that if she had any impulse to let her own tears flow it was then.

But she knew it to be one of those minutes when a woman has to be strong for herself and for the man, too, even though she break down afterward.  The necessity of coming to an understanding with him, once for all, impelled her to the economy of her forces, while the nervous snapping of his fortitude had given her an opportunity she could not afford to lose.

“So I want you to see,” she went on, quietly, as though no interruption had occurred, “that having gained my point in helping to—­to get you off, it’s to some extent a matter of indifference what you think of me—­what any one thinks of me—­just as it was when I hid you in my studio, nearly nine years ago.  You must put it down to my being of wild origin and not wholly amenable to civilized dictates.  I can only do what the inward urging drives me on to do—­just as my mother did—­and my father.  If it’s degrading—­”

Raising his head at last, he strode toward her.  He put his hands rigidly behind his back, as if to show her that he pinioned them there in token that she had nothing to fear from him.  His eyes were red, and there was still a painful tightening about his lips.

“You’ll have to let me take that back,” he muttered, unsteadily.  “I didn’t know what I was saying.  It’s come on me so suddenly that it’s broken me all up.  I haven’t realized till this evening what—­what everything meant.  It seemed to me then that I couldn’t stand it.”

“But you can.”

“Yes, I can,” he replied, doggedly.  “One can stand anything.  If I reached my limit for a minute, it was in seeing that you have to suffer for my sake——­”

“Wouldn’t you suffer for mine?”

“I couldn’t.  Suffering for your sake would become such a joy——­”

“That it wouldn’t be suffering.  That’s just it.  That’s what I feel, exactly.  It isn’t hard for me to do what I’m doing because I know—­I know—­I’m helping to save your honor if not your life.  I don’t believe money would have done it.  Mr. Conquest reminded me that the best legal services can be bought, but I never thought for an instant that you could secure zeal such as his for anything less than I offered him.  And he’s been so superb!  He’s given himself up to the thing absolutely.  He’s followed every trail with a scent—–­ with a certainty—­your other men, your Kilcup and Warren, would never have been capable of.  I’ve seen that; I’m sure of it.  He has a wonderful mind, and in his way he has the kindest