Turning the corner of the bungalow, she came upon him very suddenly, standing upright against one of the pillar-supports, awaiting her.  He was alone, and a little throb of thankfulness went through her that this was so.  She knew in that moment that she could not have borne to meet him for the first time in Burke’s presence.

She was trembling as she went forward, but the instant their hands met her agitation fell away from her, for she suddenly realized that he was trembling also.

No conventional words came to her lips.  How could she ever be conventional with Guy?  And it was Guy—­Guy in the flesh—­who stood before her, so little altered in appearance from the Guy she had known five years before that the thought flashed through her mind that he looked only as if he had come through a sharp illness.  She had expected far worse, though she realized now what Burke had meant when he had said that whatever resemblance had once existed between them, they were now no longer alike.  He had not developed as she had expected.  In Burke, she seemed to see the promise of Guy’s youth.  But Guy himself had not fulfilled that promise.  He had degenerated.  He had proved himself a failure.  And yet he did not look coarsened or hardened by vice.  He only looked, to her pitiful, inexperienced eyes, as if he had been ravaged by some sickness, as if he had suffered intensely and were doomed to suffer as long as he lived.

That was the first impression she received of him, and it was that that made her clasp his hand in both her own and hold it fast.

“Oh, Guy!” she said.  “How ill you look!”

His fingers closed hard upon hers.  He did not attempt to meet her earnest gaze.  “So you got married to Burke!” he said, ignoring her exclamation.  “It was the best thing you could do.  He may not be exactly showy, but he’s respectable.  I wonder you want to speak to me after the way I let you down.”

The words were cool, almost casual; yet his hand still held hers in a quivering grasp.  There was something in that grasp that seemed to plead for understanding.  He flashed her a swift look from eyes that burned with a fitful, feverish fire out of deep hollows.  How well she remembered his eyes!  But they had never before looked at her thus.  With every moment that passed she realized that the change in him was greater than that first glance had revealed.

“Of course I want to speak to you!” she said gently.  “I forgave you long ago—­as, I hope, you have forgiven me.”

“I!” he said.  “My dear girl, be serious!”

Somehow his tone pierced her.  There was an oddly husky quality in his voice that seemed to veil emotion.  The tears sprang to her eyes before she was aware.

“Whatever happens then, we are friends,” she said.  “Remember that always, won’t you?  It—­it will hurt me very much if you don’t.”

“Bless your heart!” said Guy, and smiled a twisted smile.  “You were always generous, weren’t you?  Too generous sometimes.  What did you want to rake me out of my own particular little comer of hell for?  Was it a mistaken idea of kindness or merely curiosity?  I wasn’t anyhow doing you any harm there.”