"I know what you are going to say," replied Jill.
Of course she knew. They had begun to think alike already.
"We must tell her."
She nodded her head.
"We can't deceive her," he went on--"It's bad enough to have deceived him. And now--well, it's such a different matter now. She must understand. Don't you think she will?"
With a gentle pressure of his hand, she agreed.
They both pictured her glad of the knowledge, because in the hearts of them both, they were so glad to be able to tell. For this is how the honest deceive themselves, by super-imposing upon another, that state of mind which is their own. With all belief, they thought the little old white-haired lady must be glad when she heard; with all innocence and ignorance of human nature, they conceived of her gratitude that such an ending had been brought about.
"When shall we tell her?" asked Jill.
"Oh--not at once. In a day or so. The day you go, perhaps."
"And you think she'll forgive me?"