Sutch was cruel with the perfect cruelty of which love alone is capable.
"You are very glad of that," said Durrance, quietly.

"Very glad that Ethne has not forgotten him.

It is a little hard on me, perhaps, who have not much left.

It would have been less hard if two years ago you had told me the whole truth, when I asked it of you that summer evening in the courtyard of the club." Compunction seized upon Lieutenant Sutch.

The gentleness with which Durrance had spoken, and the quiet accent of weariness in his voice, brought home to him something of the cruelty of his great joy and pride.
After all, what Durrance said was true.