He was now afraid to say anything.
"Look here," she said suddenly, "let me talk. There are some things I do really want to say, since you won't let it go without saying. One is that I know now you're not so much to blame as I thought, and I do forgive you. I mean it, really, not just pretending forgiveness; I forgive you altogether—"
"You—forgive me?"
"Yes, didn't you understand that that was what I meant? I didn't want to say 'I forgive you,' and I thought if I sent for you you'd understand."
"You seem to have thought your sending for me a more enlightening move than I found it."
"Yes—because you don't care now. If you had, you'd have understood."
"I really think I should like to understand."
"What?"
"Exactly what it is you're kind enough to forgive."
"Why—your never coming to see me. Benoliel told me before we'd been married a month that he had got my aunt to stop your letters and mine, so I don't blame you now as I did then. But you might have come when you found I didn't write."