The colonel held out the box. Viola did not turn. He drew it back, a puzzled expression on his face.
"What 's the matter?" he said. "Why don't you look at me? Don't you feel well?"
She turned round slowly and made a feint to take the box. As the colonel's glance fell on her face he gave a sharp exclamation and started to his feet.
"What 's happened?" he said. "What's the matter with you?"
She tried to tell him, but could not. The love and honor of him that had been the faith of her life were still alive. She could not say the words that would bring him to shame. Suddenly she pointed to the crumpled paper on the table. The colonel snatched it and pulled it open while she turned away. He recognized it at the first glance.
"Well," he said, holding his head high and looking at her with a defiant air, "what of it?"
She made no answer, and he went on violently:
"What 's there wrong about this to make you cry as if you 'd lost everything in the world, and Gault to sneak out of the house like a thief?"
"What 's wrong about it?" she burst out. "What 's wrong about you to make you ask such a question?"
