“And she didn't approve of the way you and Wenham behaved?” he demanded.
“Apparently not. She left us, anyway. She didn't understand Wenham in the least. I shouldn't be surprised,” Elizabeth went on, “to hear that she was a hospital nurse, or learning typing, or a clerk in an office. She was a young woman of gloomy ideas, although she was my sister.”
He came a little closer towards her.
“Elizabeth,” he said, “we will not talk any more about Beatrice. We will not talk any more about anything except our two selves.”
“Are you really glad to see me again, Jerry?” she asked softly.
“You must know it, dear,” he whispered. “You must know that I loved you always, that I adored you. Oh, you knew it! Don't tell me you didn't. You knew it, Elizabeth!”
She looked down at the tablecloth.
“Yes, I knew it,” she admitted, softly.
“Can't you guess what it is to me to see you again like this?” he continued.
She sighed.