t it unless you like," he said kindly.
"Whatever you do or have done is right."

"That's not true." She wrung her hands. "Oh, Tabs, you make it so hard
for me when you're generous. I haven't done right. I'm in a tangle. I
don't know whether what I'll do in the future will be any better."

They were still standing just as they had confronted each other when she
had entered. Tabs glanced round the room at the used breakfast-table,
Maisie's crumpled petition lying in the grate, the flood of sunlight and
the tops of the heads of passers-by stealing across the pane above the
stiff row of tulips. His eyes went back to the flower-face of this young
girl as she stood before him, fashionably attired and battling to
conceal the storm of her distress. The setting struck him as inadequate
and unprivate. The hats which stole by above the row of tulips seemed to
belong to spies. At any moment Ann might tap and request that she be
allowed to clear the table. He believed that in the next half-hour his
dream of the last five years was to be shattered; otherwise, if it had
not been to spare him, why should Terry have paid him so unconventional
a visit, at such an unconventional hour, when by every law of usage she
should have been waiting for him to call on her?

"How about upstairs?" he suggested. "In my study we shall be sure to be
undisturbed."

"No, Tabs, dear," and the little added word touched him strangely, "I've
got to say at once what has to be said. It's like waiting at the
dentist's--it's the waiting that's so wearing." Her face lit up with the
ghost of a smile. "When you've faced the real pain, it's over in a
second."

She seated herself. Reluctantly he followed her example. But when she
was seated, she found herself at a loss for words. She drew off her
gloves, and sat there folding and refolding them. He waited for her to
commence; the silence was unbroken, save for the laughter of children
playing in the Square and the occasional tapping of footsteps on the
pavement. He leant across the table and took her hand. "Terry, after all
these years you're not afraid of me? You don't need to be. Remember what
you've just said: it's the waiting that's so wearing; the real pain's
over in a second. Get the real pain over; then we'll plan for the best."

She looked up gratefully with eyes that were almost clear of trouble.
"You're gentle--so different from other men. I could almost love you; I
do love you. But not quite in the wa