"I--I----" she began, and put up her hand to her throat, "I want to--to--to explain."
He thought of that time when they had faced each other before--in the shabby, glaring little room--and his face hardened.
"When you----" she began; "I thought it was for you--I had heard you say----"
"Are you going back five years?" he asked.
"Then would you mind _not_?" he said. "There can be no good in it, and to me at least it is not a pleasant subject."
"I must!" she burst out. "Oh! cannot you help me? It is so hard!"
A deep colour came into his tanned face, and he stood still, looking at her strangely.
"I think I will go," he said; "there is no use in prolonging this."
"Do you--love--me still?" she cried suddenly.
He turned on her in a white passion of anger.
"Not content yet?" he breathed. "What are you made of? Do you want me to show you all my degradation? Why? Oh, Kitty, Kitty, be merciful! Be true to those eyes of yours----"
He stopped abruptly and moved over to the door.
It was the veriest whisper, but it stayed his steps, and brought a great light leaping to his eyes.
"It is too late!" he said, and turned away.
"Hugh, listen--I loved you always--five years ago. It was for your sake----"
She went on bravely, always heroic through her love.
"I was poor--insignificant; you were ambitious--clever. I had heard your longings after greatness. Hugh, how could you travel into those wild countries with me? I knew you would give it up, and how could I bear that? To be a drag, a hindrance to you! And in the coming years I thought you would regret---- Hugh, you were poor, too, though not so poor as I. I did it for you--it nearly killed me, Hugh. I was ill after, but it was for you!"
He stood very still, and his face was white and bloodless.
But in his eyes there was a great reverence.
The cynicism had gone from his face, and the hardness and bitterness too.
[Illustration: "Oh, cannot you help me? It is so hard!"]
She looked at him wistfully. He turned away from her eyes and hid his face in his hands.
"It was a mistake," he said, slowly, dully.
He looked up, and she strove to read his face in vain.
Sad it was, and set, and yet there was a light there too.
"Kathleen," he said earnestly, "God knows what I think of you. I can work now. Good-bye, dear."