"I was younger and not too young," she cried. "And all through those days at Dover I didn't know. And when we were together I didn't know. Ah, Simon, when I flung your guinea in the sea, you must have known!"
"On my faith, no," I laughed. "I didn't see the love in that, sweetheart."
"I'm glad there was no woman there to tell you what it meant," said Barbara. "And even at Canterbury I didn't know. Simon, what brought you to my door that night?"
I answered her plainly, more plainly than I could at any other time, more plainly, it may be, than even then I should:
"She bade me follow her, and I followed her so far."
"You followed her?"
"Ay. But I heard your voice through the door, and stopped."
"You stopped for my voice; what did I say?"
"You sung how a lover had forsaken his love. And I heard and stayed."