She adored him more than ever.
There was a silence.
"No," she repeated, in the most matter-of-fact tone, "I should say nothing, in your place. I should forget it."
"You would?" He drummed on the table.
"I should! And whatever you do, don't worry." Her accents were the coaxing accents of a nurse with a child--or with a lunatic.
He perceived now with the utmost clearness that she did not believe a word of what he had said, and that in her magnificent and calm sagacity she was only trying to humour him. He had expected to disturb her soul to its profoundest depths; he had expected that they would sit up half the night discussing the situation. And lo!--"I should forget it," indulgently! And a mild continuance of darning!
He had to think, and think hard.
Tears
"Henry," she called out the next morning, as he disappeared up the stairs. "What are you doing up there?"
She had behaved exactly as if nothing had happened; and she was one of those women whose prudent policy it is to let their men alone even to the furthest limit of patience; but she had nerves, too, and they were being affected. For three days Henry had really been too mysterious!