"Clarissa's lover—the man she's going to marry."
"Are you sure?"
"Absolutely."
"How do you know she's going to marry him?"
"For that matter," said I, "what do you know about it at all?"
It was then she told me everything. For this had been the meaning of her visit to Clarissa. It seems on that day when I had returned from the cliffs, that my failure had been written in my face. She assured me she had read it there. And so, when I announced that I must bring my visit to a close, she made certain in her mind of all that had taken place. But it is not only that a woman has instincts in these matters; she acts upon them.
"Upon a slender thread like that," said I, "you go to see Clarissa?"
"Why not? I knew I was right."
"You knew you were right? Without asking me for proof of it?"
"Proof doesn't help," she replied. "It doesn't make things any more real."