"He's given away the whole show to me. The question is now whether I can
take it, what?"
"He hasn't given away anything you didn't have before."
"He's given away something he might perhaps have had himself."
She drew back into the shadow so that he might not see her coloring. She
had only voice enough to say: "What makes you think so?"
"Don't _you_ think so?"
"That's not a fair question."
"It's a vital one."
"To you--yes. But--"
"But not to you. Oh, I understand that well enough. But you've been
such a good pal that I thought you might help me to see--"
"I'm afraid I can't help you to see anything. If I were to try I might
mislead you."
"But you must _know_, by Jove! Two women can't be such pals as Olivia
and you--"
"If I did know I shouldn't tell you. It's something you should find out
for yourself."
"Find out! I've _asked_ her."
"Well, if she's told you, isn't that enough?"
"It would be enough in England. But here, where words don't seem to have
the same meaning as they do anywhere else--and surprises are sprung on
you--and people have queer, complicated motives--and do preposterous,
unexpected things--"
"Peter's going to see old Cousin Vic might be unexpected; but I don't
think you can call it preposterous."
"It's preposterous to have another man racing about the world trying to
do you good, by Jove!"
"He wasn't trying to do you good so much as not to do you harm. He
thought he'd done that, apparently, by interfering with Cousin Henry's
affairs in the first place. His asking the old Marquise to come to the
rescue was only an attempt to make things easier for you."
He sprang to his feet. "And he's got me where I must either call his
bluff or--or--or accept his beastly sacrifice."
He tugged fiercely, first at one end, then at the other, of the
bristling, horizontal mustache. Drusilla tried to speak calmly.
"He's not making a sacrifice if there was nothing for him to give up."
"That's what I must find out."
She considered it only loyal to say: "It's well to remember that in
making the attempt you may do more harm than good. 'Where the apple
reddens, never pry, lest we lose our Edens'--You know the warning."
"Yes, I know. That's Browning. In other words, it means, let well enough
alone."
"Which isn't bad advice, you know."
"Which isn't bad advice--except in love. Love won't put up with
reserves. It must have all--or it will take nothing."
He dropped into a low chair at the corner of the hearth. Wielding the
poker in both hands, he knocked sparks idly from a smoldering log. It
was some minutes before she ventured to say:
"And suppose you discovered that you couldn't _get_ all?"
"I've thought that out. I should go home, and ask to be allowed to join
the first punitive expedition sent out--one of those jolly little
parties from which they don't expect more than half the number to come
back. There's one just starting now--against the Carrals--up on the
Tibet frontier. I dare say I could catch it."