"But I did. You have to with burnt cork."

"Don't tell me these horrible things." Her voice rose almost
hysterically. "I never want to hear the words burnt cork mentioned
again as long as I live."

"I feel exactly the same." Sam moved to her side.

"Darling," he said in a low voice, "it was like you to ask me to meet
you here. I know what you were thinking. You thought that I should need
sympathy. You wanted to pet me, to smooth my wounded feelings, to hold
me in your arms, and tell me that, as we loved each other, what did
anything else matter?"

"I didn't."

"You didn't?"

"No, I didn't."

"Oh, you didn't! I thought you did!" He looked at her wistfully.

"I thought," he said, "that possibly you might have wished to comfort
me. I have been through a great strain. I have had a shock...."

"And what about me?" she demanded passionately. "Haven't I had a
shock?"

He melted at once.