She had dropped into a chair and was sobbing with her face hidden in her hands.
'I can't--I can't!' she cried desperately.

'Indeed, I can't.

It isn't my fault.
I'm so sorry.

Oh, Dickie, I'm so sorry.' Dick's shoulders straightened again, for the words lashed like a whip.
Still the sobbing continued.

It is not good to realise that you have failed in the hour of trial or flinched before the mere possibility of making sacrifices.
'I do despise myself--indeed I do.