"Your husband cannot return before the morning," Bernadine reminded her.
"It makes no difference," she answered. "Paul is sometimes fierce and rough, but he is generous, and all his life he has worshipped me. He behaves strangely at times, but I know that he cares—all the time more, perhaps, than I deserve."
"And there is no one else." Bernadine asked softly, "who can claim even the smallest place in your heart?"
"Monsieur," the woman begged, "you must not ask me that. I think that you had better go away."
Bernadine stood quite still for several moments. It was the climax towards which he had steadfastly guided the course of this mild intrigue.
"Madame," he declared, "You must not send me away! You shall not!"
She held out her hand.
"Then you must not ask impossible things," she answered.
Then Bernadine took the plunge. He became suddenly very grave.
"Sophia," he said, "I am keeping a great secret from you, and I can do it no longer. When you speak to me of your husband you drive me mad. If I believed that really you loved him, I would go away and leave it to chance whether or not you ever discovered the truth. As it is——"