I let out, I tell you. I was fairly
deep in the thing--you know that I felt pretty badly, because it was my
fault that you ever knew Nevile at all. Don't you suppose I've ever
forgiven myself that, Sancie; never you suppose it. No, no."
He was much moved. She, by a sudden impulse, put out her hand to him. He
wrung it, and said, "Thanks, Sancie; thanks, my dear."
After a wrestling bout, he went on: "Do you know what that fellow said to
me? I should like you to know it. Mind you, he was yours, body and soul,
then--whatever he may be now. I think he's yours still, for that matter--
but _then!_ He never concealed it--so far as I know--from anybody. Now,
listen to me. He heard me out, never said anything till I'd done. Then he
looked out over the marshes into the weather, and he said, "No harm ever
came to a good woman. I shall see her again, crowned. Now, what do you
say to that? Queer, isn't it?"
Sanchia blushed deeply and bent her head. Chevenix marked her confusion,
and varied his tone to suit the case. He became practical. "Now, what'll
he say about this new state of affairs, do you suppose?"
She lifted her head. "He will think me in the right."
Chevenix shrugged.
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