For a time. We had better be quite sure. We do not want a
second mistake."
"You see that there has been a mistake?"
"Can I help seeing it, Desire?"
"No, I suppose not. . . . And when you are sure?" Her voice was very
low.
"When I--when we are both sure, I shall act. There are ways out. It
ought not to be difficult."
"No, quite easy, I think. I hope it will not be long."
His mask of reasonable acquiescence slipped a little at the
wistfulness of her voice.
"Don't speak like that!" he said sharply. "No man is worth it."
Desire smiled. It was such a sure, secret little smile, that it
maddened him.
"You can't--you can't care like that!" he said in a low, furious
tone. "You said you never could!"
"I do," said Desire.
It was the avowal which she had sworn she would never make. Yet she
made it without shame. Love had taught Desire much since the day of
the episode of the photograph. And one of its teachings had to do
with the comparative insignificance of pride. Why should he not know
that she loved him? Of what use a gift that is never given? Besides,
as this leaden week had passed, she knew that, more than anything
else, she wanted truth between them. Now, when he asked it of her,
she gave him truth.
"It is breaking our bargain," she went on with a wavering smile.
"But I was so sure! I cannot even blame myself. It must be possible
to be quite sure and quite wrong at the same time."
"Yes. There is no blame, anywhere.
Pages:
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278