There was now no honest way of warning Taber that the net had been drawn. ‘Laisse-moi,’ she threw at him, her brief attack of sobs already ended, although the trace of tears on her cheeks bore witness to its sincerity. Lucy felt her eyes misting up, turning traitor. My poor brain is so mixed, dear, I hardly know what I am saying. We hide it bravely, but so it is. You would steal from me then the only man I ever cared a snap of the fingers about. She saw his purpose and his doubt hesitated also, and then went to him, took his coat lapels, and kissed him on the cheek. Don’t try.
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