“But supposing⁠—supposing the lady did not care? Supposing she⁠—loved you⁠—and was willing to share your disgrace?”

The ground at her feet was strewn with crimson petals, and all around and above her roses nodded and swayed. A tiny breeze was stirring her curls and the lace of her frock, but John would not allow himself to look, lest the temptation to catch her in his arms should prove too great for him. She was ready to give herself to him; to face anything, only to be with him. In the plainest language she offered herself to him, and he had to reject her.

“It is inconceivable that the lady would sacrifice herself in such a fashion, madam,” he said.

“Sacrifice!” She caught her breath. “You call it that!”

“What else?”