I
"I suppose you've never thought about me once since I've left!"
She was sitting on the sofa in the small, shelved breakfast-room, and she shot these words at Edwin Clayhanger, who was standing near her. The singular words were certainly uttered out of bravado: they were a challenge to adventure. She thought: "It is madness for me to say such a thing." But such a thing had, nevertheless, come quite glibly out of her mouth, and she knew not why. If Edwin Clayhanger was startled, so was she startled.
"Oh yes, I have!" he stammered--of course, she had put him out of countenance.
She smiled, and said persuasively: "But you've never inquired after me."
"Yes, I have," he answered, with a hint of defiance, after a pause.
"Only once." She continued to smile.
"How do you know?" he demanded.
Then she told him very calmly, extinguishing the smile, that her source of information was Janet.
"That's nothing to go by!" he exclaimed, with sudden roughness. "That's nothing to go by--the number of times I've inquired!"