She found herself able to look at him quite steadily, and did so. It was
he who--for the first time in her recollection--avoided her eyes.
"What is it, Monsieur Dumaresq?" she asked quietly.
His hands were gripped upon the arms of his chair. He seemed to be
holding himself there by force.
"Just this," he said. "I find that your estimate is after all the
correct one. You have always regarded me as a blackguard, and a
blackguard I am. I am not here to apologise for it, simply to
acknowledge my mistake, for, strange as it will seem to you, I took
myself for something different. At least when I gave you my word I
thought I was capable of keeping it. Well, it is broken, and, that being
so, I can no longer hold you to yours. Do you understand, Mademoiselle
Stephanie? You are a free woman."
For an instant he looked at her, and an odd thrill of pity ran through
her for his humiliation.
She said nothing. She had no words in which to express herself.
Moreover, her eyes were suddenly full of unaccountable tears. She could
not have trusted her voice.
After a moment he resumed. "There is only one thing left to say. In two
days we shall be in British waters. I will land you wherever you wish.
But you shall not go from me to earn your own living. You will
accept--you shall accept"--she heard the stubborn note she had come to
know so well in his voice--"sufficient from me to make you independent
for the rest of your life.
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