THE SENSE OF THE PAST
"One of whom?"
"The women. The women. Good-bye," he said again and offering his hand as if their queer chasm had been bridged by this intensity of the personal question. It was as if he took something that she couldn't help giving, and what he took made him after an instant break out: "It will be you—I'll be hanged!—who will come."
But she was so firm and finished and high withal that even the ring of perception in this, or at least the rush of confidence, failed to make her wince. It only made her think to the very end of her goodnature. "I'll tell you what I'll do—if I can trust to your honour."
"You can trust to my honour," Pendrel said.
"Very well then, I promise you that if I find I want to—for that's the point—I'll loyally, bravely, and at whatever cost this time to my vanity, go back."
Pendrel weighed it. "Isn't there a danger that you'll take care not to find you want to?"
"Certainly a danger. I can do anything rather than want to. Anything, that is—I again promise you—short of marrying to save myself. It will take a miracle to move me, but if I am moved—moved from within and by something now incalculable—you may count on me. That," Aurora said, "is the meaning of my talking of my honour."
"And what's the meaning," Ralph asked, "of your talking of mine?"
35
