"He always feels it like that—so do I."
I turned away, letting my eyes set out to that far line of sky and sea, for again I felt the sense of covetousness stealing over me. It was just the same as when I had envied my electrician and his little nursery maid. Now I was envying Cruikshank and his Bellwattle, grudging them nothing it is true, yet wishing I had won their secret of things, that I could make the magic garden of contentment as undoubtedly as had they.
"Do you know," she said, suddenly, sitting up as she spoke and resting her chin upon her knees. "Do you know I believe London is not really a place to be happy in. I don't know how to explain it, but I know what I mean. I always lived in London, you know, until we married. I was born in London."
"And you were never happy?"
"Oh—I've had the jolliest times imaginable—splendid times."
"Well—isn't that being happy?" said I.
She paused for just a moment and then, with an emphatic shake of her head, she said "No!"
"Could they really have been splendid times?"
"Yes—yes—they were splendid. I shall never have times like them again. They made me forget everything. Oh, why is it so difficult to explain? But it is that—it's just—" She stumbled, piteously at a loss for words. It was all there within her, bubbling to her very lips, dancing in her eyes. Only the words were wanting, and in the need of them her forehead wrinkled, all her features screwed themselves up into a comical expression of pain. It was not really comical. It was more like some dumb animal—like Dandy, in whose eyes sometimes I almost fancy that I see tears because he cannot express in words the emotion which is a torrent within him. But at least I understand what he would say, and when it comes to such a pass I tell him so. I could not tell Bellwattle. To begin with, I did not know myself. She was driving towards some point which was vivid and real enough to her, whereas, there was only the dimmest conjecture in my mind. In such a case it is best to ask questions. Give her something to contradict, and in the excitement of being misunderstood a woman may hit upon her meaning unawares.
"If they made you forget everything," I began.