"You have a right to ask," she said, in a lower voice. "I suppose I ought to tell you the whole story; but——"
There was strong reluctance in her voice.
"You need do nothing of the kind. I have no right at all; don't talk nonsense, Cynthia. After all, what is the use of raking up old reminiscences? I have always held that it is better to put the past behind us—to live for the present and the future. All of us have memories that we would gladly forget. Why not make it a business of life to do so?"
"'Forgetting those things which are behind,'" Cynthia murmured.
She was sitting on a very low chair, her hands loosely clasped before her, her eyes searching the embers of the fire. Hubert looked at her curiously.
"I never heard you quote Scripture before," he said, half laughing.
"Why not? There are plenty of things in the Bible worth thinking about and quoting too," said Cynthia briskly, but with a sudden change of attitude. "It would be better for us both, I have no doubt, if we knew it a little better, Mr. Lepel. Aren't you going to smoke? It does not seem at all natural to see you without a cigar in your mouth."
"What a character to give me! Smoke in this rose-tinted room?"
"Madame's friends all smoke here. You need not be an exception. She herself condescends at times to the luxury of a cigarette."
"You call it a luxury?"