He could not raise his eyes.  As she still awaited his answer, he said in rather a hard voice: 

’As I have told you, I read all the details that were published.

’Then you know that I was working hard and honestly—­working far, far harder than when I lived in Clerkenwell Close.  But I don’t know why I am talking to you about it.  It’s all over.  I went my own way, and I all but won what I fought for.  You may very well say, what’s the use of mourning over one’s fate?’

Sidney had risen.

‘You were strong in your resolve to succeed,’ he said gravely, ’and you will find strength to meet even this trial.’

’A weaker woman would suffer far less.  One with a little more strength of character would kill herself.’

’No.  In that you mistake.  You have not yourself only to think of.  It would be an easy thing to put an end to your life.  You have a duty to your father.’

She bent her head.

’I think of him.  He is goodness itself to me.  There are fathers who would have shut the door in my face.  I know better now than I could when I was only a child how hard his life has been; he and I are like each other so many ways; he has always been fighting against cruel circumstances.  It’s right that you, who have been his true and helpful friend, should remind me of my duty to him.’

A pause; then Sidney asked: 

’Do you wish me to speak to him very soon about your finding occupation?’

‘If you will.  If you could think of anything.’

He moved, but still delayed his offer to take leave.

‘You said just now,’ Clara continued, falteringly, ’that you did not try to express sympathy, because words seemed of no use.  How am I to find words of thanks to you for coming here and listening to what I had to say?’

‘But surely so simple an act of friendship—­’

’Have I so many friends?  And what right have I to look to you for an act of kindness?  Did I merit it by my words when I last—­’

There came a marvellous change—­a change such as it needed either exquisite feeling or the genius of simulation to express by means so simple.  Unable to show him by a smile, by a light in her eyes, what mood had come upon her, what subtle shifting in the direction of her thought had checked her words—­by her mere movement as she stepped lightly towards him, by the carriage of her head, by her hands half held out and half drawn back again, she prepared him for what she was about to say.  No piece of acting was ever more delicately finished.  He knew that she smiled, though nothing of her face was visible; he knew that her look was one of diffident, half-blushing pleasure.  And then came the sweetness of her accents, timorous, joyful, scarcely to be recognised as the voice which an instant ago had trembled sadly in self-reproach.

’But that seems to you so long ago, doesn’t it?  You can forgive me now.  Father has told me what happiness you have found, and I—­I am so glad!’