“No,” said Kilmuir. “But how does that apply?”
“I realized the other night that I’d done exactly the same—told you in so many words how you could rescue me. . . . You see, I didn’t know then that you were married. If the woman had come and told me how poor she was, it wouldn’t have mattered, because I had nothing. But Aunt Beatrice had the means. In the same way, my telling you my plight doesn’t matter now, because you can’t help.”
There was a long silence.
At length—
“Surely,” said Nicholas gently, “you knew me better than that? Surely you needn’t ’ve thought——”
“You’re a man,” said Susan. “You don’t know how frightfully sensitive about marriage a woman can be. Many a girl’s thrown away happiness rather than let a man even suspect—quite wrongly—that she’s setting the pace.”
“I’m inclined to think that still more have set the pace rather than run the risk of throwing away happiness.”
Susan laughed.
“And, what’s more,” continued Kilmuir, “the latter have all my sympathy.”
“Listen to the man,” said Susan.