“I know more than most other women do.”
“You would have known much more yet if you had worn a mask,” he told her very dryly.
She did not reply, and after a few minutes he continued:
“And now, when you know everything, and can no more be deceived, are you so most happy?”
“I do not know,” she said slowly.
“How have you lost your faith?” he inquired; “what in especial can no more deceive you?”
“I don’t believe in men,” she declared; “I don’t believe in anything that they say, nor in anything that they promise. And I don’t believe one bit in love!”
The man stopped by an empty bench.
“We have walked so long,” he remarked parenthetically; and she sat down, parenthetically also, so to speak.
“That is sad,” he said, digging in the gravel with his cane, “not to believe in love, or in the truth of a man! and you are a woman, too! Then there is no more truth and love for you.”