She nodded.
"Yes," was all she said.
He sat down on the opposite side of the table and leaned forward, still
with that half-surprised curiosity on his face.
"Then why didn't you clear yourself just now? You could have done. Why on
earth didn't you explain?"
A twisted little smile tilted her mouth.
"Because--because I wanted to keep Ann out of it. Don't you see--he thinks
Bradley made a mistake. He need never know--now--that Ann even thought of
coming. I've ... made sure ... of his happiness. I took it away once. Now
I've given it back."
Brett got up abruptly. That twisted little smile hiding a supreme agony
touched him as no woman's grief had ever touched him yet.... The low,
toneless confession with its quiet immolation of self.... He put his hand
into his pocket, and, drawing out a packet of loose papers, banded together
with elastic, flung them down on to the table.
"Oh, hang!" he said gruffly. "There are the bills Brabazon gave me. By God,
you've earned them!"
Cara stretched her hand out slowly and touched the packet with hesitating
fingers.
"Do you mean this, Brett?"
"Certainly I mean it."
She stared at him almost incredulously.
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