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Sinclair, May, 1863-1946

"The Divine Fire"

I never would have come if I'd realized
what it meant, but when I did know, I stayed all the same."
"What do you think you ought to have done?"
"Of course--I ought to have gone away--since I couldn't be honest and
tell you."
"And why" (she said it very gently but with no change in her
attitude), "why couldn't you be honest and tell me?"
"I'm not sure that I'd any right to tell you what I hadn't any right
to know. I'm only sure of one thing--as I did know, I oughtn't to have
stayed. But," he reiterated sorrowfully, "I did stay."
"You stayed to help me."
"Yes; with all my dishonesty I wouldn't have done it if I hadn't made
myself believe that. As it's turned out, I've helped to ruin you."
"Please--please don't. As far as I'm concerned you've nothing to
reproach yourself with. Your position was a very difficult one."
"I ought never to have got into it."
"Still, you did your best."
"My best! You can't say I did what an honourable man would have done;
I mean at the beginning."
"No--no. I'm afraid I can't say that."
He did not expect anything but sincerity from her, neither did he
desire that her sense of honour should be less fine than his. But he
longed for some word of absolution, some look even that should
reinstate him in his self-esteem; and it seemed to him that there was
none.
"You can't think worse of me than I think myself," he said, and
turned mournfully away.
She sat suddenly upright, with one hand on the arm of her chair, as if
ready to rise and cut off his retreat.


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