"Barry, what is it--for heaven's sake speak! Do you think I have been blind all these months, that I have seen nothing? Can't you tell me--anything?" her voice, quivering with emotion, was strange to him, strange enough to recall him to himself. He straightened slowly and drew away from her with a little shiver. "There is nothing I can tell you," he replied dully, "nothing that I can explain, only this--I went through hell in Japan. I don't want any sympathy--it was my own fault, my own doing.... Just now I made a fool of myself, I was off my guard, your words startled me. Forget it, you can do me no good by remembering."
He made an abrupt movement as if to leave the room but Miss Craven stood squarely in front of him, her chin raised stubbornly. She knew now that she was face to face with something even more terrible than she had imagined. He had avoided a definite answer. By all reasoning she should have accepted his rebuff but intuition, stronger than reason, impelled her. If he went now it would be the end. She knew that positively. The question could never be opened up again. She could not let it pass without a final effort. It was inconceivable that this shadow could always lie across his life. Whatever tragical event had occurred belonged to the past--surely the future might hold some alleviation, some happiness that might compensate for the sorrow that had lined his face and brought the silver threads that gleamed in his thick dark hair. Surely in the care for another life memory might be dulled and there might dawn for him a new hope, a new peace. Despite his broken suggestive words her trust in him was still maintained; she had no fear for Gillian--with him her future would be assured. And there seemed no other alternative. Her confidence in herself furthermore was not shaken, she had a deep unalterable conviction that the wish for the union she so desired was based upon something deeper than mere fancy. It was not anything that she could put into words or even into concrete thought, but the belief was strong. It was a vivid assurance that went beyond reasoning, that made it possible for her to speak again.
"Are you going to let the past dominate the rest of your life," she asked slowly, "is the future to count for nothing? There are, in all probability, many years ahead of you--cannot you, in them, obliterate what has gone before?"
He turned from her with a hopeless gesture and a muttered word she could not catch. But he did not go as she feared he would. He lingered in the room, staring into the heart of the glowing fire and Miss Craven played her last card.