There was an oddly husky quality in
his voice that seemed to veil emotion. The tears sprang to her
eyes before she was aware.
"Whatever happens then, we are friends," she said. "Remember that
always, won't you? It--it will hurt me very much if you don't."
"Bless your heart!" said Guy, and smiled a twisted smile. "You
were always generous, weren't you? Too generous sometimes. What
did you want to rake me out of my own particular little comer of
hell for? Was it a mistaken idea of kindness or merely curiosity?
I wasn't anyhow doing you any harm there."
His words, accompanied by that painful smile, went straight to her
heart. "Ah, don't--don't!" she said. "Did you think I could
forget you so easily, or be any thing but wretched while you were
there?"
He looked at her again, this time intently, "What can you be made
of, Sylvia?" he said. "Do you mean to say you found it easy to
forgive me?"
She dashed the tears from her eyes. "I don't remember that I was
ever--angry with you," she said. "Somehow I realized--from the
very first--that--that--it was just--bad luck."
"You amaze me!" he said.
She smiled at him. "Do I? I don't quite see why. Is it so
amazing that one should want to pass on and make the best of
things? That is how I feel now. It seems so long ago, Guy,--like
another existence almost.
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