At the end of a full minute, he spoke.  “Has it gone?”

“Yes,” she said.

He turned back and looked at her.  She met his eyes with an effort.

“I am quite all right,” she said again.

“Ready to start back?” he said.

She leaned forward in her chair, her hands clasped very tightly in front of her.  “To-day?” she said in a low voice.

“I thought you wanted to get away,” said Burke.

“Yes—­yes, I do.”  Her eyes suddenly fell before his.  “I do,” she said again.  “But—­but—­I’ve got—­something—­to ask of you—­first.”

“Well?” said Burke.

Her breath came quickly; her fingers were straining against each other.  “I—­don’t quite know—­how to say it,” she said.

Burke stood quite motionless, looking down at her.  “Must it be said?” he asked.

“Yes.”  She sat for a moment or two, mustering her strength.  Then, with an abrupt effort, she got up and faced him.  “Burke, I think I have a right to your trust,” she said.

He looked straight back at her with piercing, relentless eyes.  “If we are going to talk of rights,” he said, “I might claim a right to your confidence.”

She drew back a little, involuntarily, but the next moment, quickly, she went to him and clasped his arm between her hands.  “Please be generous, partner!” she said.  “We won’t talk of rights, either of us.  You—­are not—­angry with me now, are you?”

He stiffened somewhat at her touch, but he did not repulse her.  “I’m afraid you won’t find me in a very yielding mood,” he said.

She held his arm a little more tightly, albeit her hands were trembling.  “Won’t you listen to me?” she said, in a voice that quivered.  “Is there—­no possibility of—­of—­coming to an understanding?”

He drew a slow hard breath.  “We have a very long way to go first,” he said.

“I know,” she answered, and her voice was quick with pain.  “I know.  But—­we can’t go on—­like this.  It—­just isn’t bearable.  If—­even if you can’t understand me—­Burke, won’t you—­won’t you try at least to give me—­the benefit of the doubt?”

It was very winningly spoken, but as she spoke she leaned her head suddenly against the arm she held and stifled a sob.  “For both our sakes!” she whispered.

But Burke stood, rigid as rock, staring straight before him into the glaring sunlight.  She did not know what was passing in his mind; that was the trouble of it.  But she felt his grim resistance like a wall of granite, blocking her way.  And the brave heart of her sank in spite of all her courage.

He moved at last, but it was a movement of constraint.  He laid his free hand on her shoulder.  “Crying won’t help,” he said.  “I think we had better be getting back.”

And then, for the sake of the old love, she made her supreme effort.  She lifted her face; it was white to the lips, but it bore no sign of tears.  “I can’t go,” she said, “till—­I have seen Guy.”