"You should never have married him when he told you he did not love you."
"Why not?" warmly. "I knew nothing of love; I thought he knew nothing of it either. Love seemed to me a stupid sort of thing (it seems so still). I said to myself that a nice strong friendship would be sufficient for me——"
"Well?"
"Well, so it would—only he felt no friendship. He felt nothing but his love for that odious woman! I couldn't stand that."
"You stood it for a long time, Tita—if it ever existed."
"Yes; I know. I didn't seem to care much at first, but when he grew rude to me about Tom—— Well, I knew what that meant."
"If you knew, you should have kept your cousin at a greater distance."
"Nonsense, Margaret! what do you mean by that?" Tita has turned a pair of lustrous eyes upon her—eyes lit by the fire of battle—not battle with Margaret, however, but with memory. "You honestly think that he believed I was in love with Tom?"
"I do. And I think he was jealous."
Tita bursts out laughing. There is little music in her mirth.