I heard only this morning that there would be no difficulty."
Helen snatched up her work and groped her way towards the door.
"I will come back in a few minutes," she promised, her voice a
little broken.
Lessingham, who had opened the door for her, returned to his place.
There were no tears in Philippa's brilliant eyes, but there was a
faint patch of colour in her cheeks, and her lips were not quite
steady. She caught at his hands.
"Oh, my dear, dear friend!" she said. "If only that little nightmare
part of you did not exist. If only you could be just what you seem,
and one could feel that you were there in our lives for always! I
feel that I want to talk to you so much, to you and not the sham you.
What shall I call you?"
"Bertram, please," he whispered.
"Then Bertram, dear," she went on, "for my sake, because you have
really become dear to me, because my heart aches at the thought of
your danger, and because--see how honest I am--I am a little
afraid of myself--will you go away? The thought of your danger is
like a nightmare to me. It all seems so absurd and unreasonable
--I mean that the danger which I fear should be hanging over you.
But I think that there is just a little something back of your brain
of which you have never spoken, which it was your duty to keep to
yourself, and it is just that something which brings the danger.
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