THE TOUCHSTONE
"Be silent!" she commanded him; but he seemed no longer conscious of any check on his gathering purpose.
"He cared for you—he cared for you," he repeated, "and he never told you of the letters—"
She sprang to her feet. "How can you?" she flamed. "How dare you? That—!"
Glennard was ashy pale. "It's a weapon . . . like another. . ."
"A scoundrel's!"
He smiled wretchedly. "I should have used it in his place."
"Stephen! Stephen!" she cried, as though to drown the blasphemy on his lips. She swept to him with a rescuing gesture. "Don't say such things. I forbid you! It degrades us both."
He put her back with trembling hands. "Nothing that I say of myself can degrade you. We're on different levels."
"I'm on yours, wherever it is!"
He lifted his head and their gaze flowed together.
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