With the last words she turned from the fire and involuntarily faced him.
Their eyes met. In hers were only the pity of life, the sadness, the
cruelty of misfortune, and friendliness for him. In his eyes was purpose
definite, strong.

He went over and put the child in its high chair. Then coming a little
nearer to Guida, he said:

"There's only one thing in life that really hurts--playing false."

Her heart suddenly stopped beating. What was Ranulph going to say?
After all these years was he going to speak of Philip? But she did not
reply according to her thought.

"Have people played false in your life--ever?" she asked.

"If you'll listen to me I'll tell you how," he answered. "Wait, wait,"
she said in trepidation. "It--it has nothing to do with me?"

He shook his head. "It has only to do with my father and myself. When
I've told you, then you must say whether you will have anything to do
with it, or with me.... You remember," he continued, without waiting for
her to speak, "you remember that day upon the Ecrehos--five years ago?
Well, that day I had made up my mind to tell you in so many words what I
hoped you had always known, Guida. I didn't--why? Not because of
another man--no, no, I don't mean to hurt you, but I must tell you the
truth now--not because of another man, for I should have bided my chance
with him."