That is enough to say. I
find it hard to understand, anybody would, that you could take so much
pleasure in me and not--so much more." She opened her lips again, but
kept back the words. "Yes," she added, "that is enough to say."
But for her colourless face and the tenseness about her lips it might
have been thought that she definitely abandoned what she had learned she
could not have. There was a note of acquiescence and regret in her
voice, of calm reason above all; and this sense reached him, induced him
to listen, as he generally listened, for anything she might find that
would explain the situation. His fingers went from habit, as a man might
play with his watch-chain, to the symbol of his faith; her eyes followed
them, and rested mutely on the cross. There was a profundity of feeling
in them, wistful, acknowledging, deeply speculative. "You could not
forget that?" she said, and shook her head as if she answered herself.
He looked into her upturned face and saw that her eyes were swimming.
"Never!" he said, "Never," but he walked to the nearest chair and sat
down. He seemed suddenly aware that he need not go away, and his head,
as it rose in the twilight against the window, was grave and calm.
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