He stood silent for a while. Then suddenly he dropped to his knees beside her. He felt inspired.
"Sophy...." he said very low, a sort of wheedling cunning in his voice. "I wonder ... if you aren't ... just a bit ... jealous, yourself?"
"I?"
"Yes. You. Of ... oh, you know who I mean! But, Sophy ... listen ... I swear to you a man can be ... like that ... about another woman—and yet love his wife ... really love only her ... I swear it to you."
Sophy smiled again.
"Yes. So I've heard," she said.
He was eager in a moment.
"Well, then ... don't you see?... It was only a ... a flash in the pan—as one might say.... Really, you know, it's true. That one can fancy a woman for a bit like that, yet never dream of loving her as one loves one's wife...."
"Morris...." said Sophy seriously. She leaned her chin on her hand, and looked gravely at him.
"Well?" he said expectantly.