"Yes—and the war divorces," he reminded her.
"Brute!" she exclaimed, with a little grimace.
"Why 'brute'?" he protested. "You can't deny them. Some of these marriages were genuine enough, of course. Others were simply the result of a sort of amorous hysteria. Affected every one in those days just like a germ."
"John Wingate!"
"Yes?"
"Don't try to be cynical."
"I'm not."
"You are," she persisted. "There isn't a man breathing who has a more wonderful capacity for caring than you. You hide your feelings from most people. Are you very angry with me for having guessed? I have, you know."
Wingate paused in the act of lighting a cigarette.
"What's that?"