"Love would come," he answered.
"That's what he said," exclaimed Cynthia.
"And you?" asked Benoliel.
Cynthia bent her eyes steadily upon him.
"I answered, 'Lovers would come.'"
Mr. Benoliel looked up at her with a wry face.
"You know too much, my dear," he said, and Cynthia threw back her head, with her face suddenly clouded and sullen.
"Oh, yes," she cried bitterly. "I have eaten of the tree--and lately--very lately."
And at the sight of her distress all Mr. Benoliel's indignation vanished.
"I know," he said gently. "That's why I wanted you to marry, Cynthia."