Electra glowed.
"I know what he would have said, if he had had time. He did not need to tell me."
Rose sat wondering what argument would move her.
"Electra," she ventured, "have you had any curiosity about my father's relations to other people?"
"He had no time to tell me," said Electra, with a proud dignity.
"No, he would not have told you. He never confused his relations. Did you know he was adored by women?"
Electra's face flamed. She made no answer. If she could have set forth adequately what was in her tumultuous thoughts, she would have told Rose that nothing seemed so entirely her own as her part in Markham MacLeod's life. She had no curiosity over his past, no doubt of what her future would have been with him, accepting what he chose to give her, and finding it enough.
Rose pursued her into the cloister of her thought.
"Do you know, Electra," she was urging, "do you know how women devoted themselves to him?"
"They must have devoted themselves to him. I am one of them. I am proud to be."