"Lawrence," she said, "we are man and woman, not boy and girl. You asked me to marry you once, and I hesitated, only because of one thing. I do not wish to look into any hidden chambers of your life. I wish to know nothing, save of the present. What claim has this woman Blanche Phillimore upon you?"
"It is her secret," he answered, "not mine alone."
"She lives in your house—through her you are a poor man—through her you are back again, a worker in the world."
"Yes!"
"It must always be so?"
"Yes."
"And you have nothing more to say?"
"If I dared," he said, raising his eyes to hers, "I would say—trust me! I am not exactly—one of the beasts of the field."
"Will you not trust me, then? I am not a foolish girl. I am a woman. You may destroy an ideal, but there would be something left."
"I can tell you no more."