Somehow it seemed as though a great burden had been lifted from her shoulders since she had confided her trouble to Garth.
"Thank you," he said quietly.

"Now, while Judson gets the car round, you must have a glass of wine." "No--oh, no!"-- hastily--"I don't want anything." "Allow me to know better than you do in this case," he replied, smiling.
He left the room, presently returning with a bottle of champagne and a couple of glasses.
"Oh, please--I'd so much rather start at once," she protested.

"I really don't want anything.

Do let us hurry!" "I'm sorry, but I've no intention of starting until you have drunk this"-- filling and handing one of the glasses to her.
Rather than waste time in further argument, she accepted it, only to find that her hand was shaking uncontrollably, so that the edge of the glass chattered against her teeth.
"I--I can't!" she gasped helplessly.

Now that she had shared her burden of responsibility, the demands of the last half-hour's anxiety and strain were making themselves felt.
With a swift movement Garth took the glass from her, and, supporting her with his other arm, held it to her lips.
"Drink it down," he said authoritatively.