But good heavens!
didn't she realize that Mary was dead and buried? No. She evidently
did not. Far from it. When he was able to listen intelligently once
more, Desire was saying:
"... and, to a man like you, philosophy should be such a help. I
feel you will be far, far less unhappy if you do not shut yourself
up with your memories. Do you suppose I have not noticed how nervous
and worn out you have been since the night we came away? Why have
you tried to hide it?"
"I haven't--"
"Yes you have. Please, please don't quibble. And hidden things are
so dangerous. It isn't as if I would not understand. You ought to
give me credit for a little knowledge of human nature. I knew
perfectly well that when you married me--you would think of Mary.
You could hardly help it."
The professor sat up. He was not at all sleepy now. Mary had
"murdered sleep." But he was still dazed.
"Wait a moment." He raised a restraining hand. "Let me get this
right. You say you have noticed a certain lack of energy in my
manner of late?"
"Anyone must have noticed it."
"But I explained it, didn't I?"
"Yes?" The slight smile on Desire's lips was sufficient comment on
the explanation. The professor began to feel injured.
"Then I gather, further, that you do not accept the explanation?"
"Don't be cross! How could I? I have eyes. And my point is simply
that there is no need for any concealment between us. You promised
that we should be friends.
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