“Is it that you have changed your mind again—after all our plans?”
“No, dear—but I don’t want to fasten you down to anything we planned. You may want to change.”
“Why should I?” I asked quietly. “Nothing is changed because of this: except that in our future life together we shall both be the happier for it.”
He stood looking at me with glad though doubtful eyes then, tapping his gaiter with his crop. But always he stayed at a little distance, almost as though he feared I might touch him. I went over to him, and put my hands on his shoulders.
“That real life you and I are going to live presently, in—
“Some neater, sweeter country,—
Some greener, cleaner land.”
My voice gave a little catch in my throat, but I struggled on.
“Life is full of possibilities for us, Maurice—I believe we are going to be very happy.”
But he turned aside moodily, hanging his head a little. I had not seen him look like that for, many months.
“What is the good of pretending to me, Deirdre? I have been too bad a brute and a devil to you—and you love Kinsella—I know you can never love me.”