"How pale your face is. And what a strange expression round the mouth—and your eyes are circled. Are you ill, dear?"
"Absolutely well. It's the strain of getting ready to say these things to you." She saw he was observing her like a physician studying a patient. "No, I'm not insane, either," said she good-humoredly.
"What's happened to upset you?"
She put one knee in a chair, leaned toward him over its back, her elbows upon it. Said she, "It isn't a matter of to-day, but of five years—or, rather, of four years."
He straightened up in his chair. She imagined that his grandfather, old Colonel Achilles, must have looked like that at the same age. "What are you talking about?" he demanded.
"About our failure as a married couple," replied she, meeting his gaze with calm courage.
"Failure!" exclaimed he. "Why, our married life is ideal. I wouldn't have it changed in the least particular." He nodded his handsome, powerful head. "Not in the least particular."
She had expected him to say something like this. But the actual words, spoken with sincerity and conviction, stopped her. Her road had ended against the face of a cliff with a precipice on either side.
"I want to be free," she said desperately. "I must be free!"
"Free? You are free."