‘And your hopes of these things,’ her lips whitened as she repeated the words, ‘were madness? Singular contradiction! You have told me that yours has been a secluded student’s life, that, until a fortnight ago, you never cared for any society but that of men?’
‘Whatever I have told you has been true,’ said Geff, with firmness. Then, instantly relenting, ‘Do not let us have a quarrel,’ he pleaded, ‘on this first day that we are sweethearts.’
She turned from him, indignant, breathless.
‘If we quarrel over realities, Mr. Arbuthnot, the pity is we did not look realities in the face before becoming sweethearts.’
‘Miss Bartrand—Marjorie!’
‘Oh, I am thoroughly in earnest. This morning, when first I knew you cared for me a little, I was open with you. I told you what had to be said about Major Tredennis, and you forgave me. Bluebeard secrets, bad always, must be doubly so between people who mean to spend their lives together. I told you of my miserable weakness——’
Her frank girlish face burned so hotly that Geff came to her relief.
‘You were very open with me, Marjorie, true and straightforward, as it is your nature to be.’
‘I did not hide from you, whatever the shame of it, that I had bound myself once before.’
Geoffrey was no social diplomatist. He might, otherwise, with mournful veracity have retorted that he had been a free man always. But the statement would have implied a prevarication, and it was not in Geoffrey Arbuthnot’s upright soul to prevaricate.