And presently her beautiful cultivated voice was flowing along. It was an article in the Saturday Review she had picked up, and I did not take in what it was about. I was gazing into the glowing logs, and trying to see visions, and gain any inspiration of how to find a way out of this tangle of false impression. I must wait and see, and endeavor when we get more accustomed to one another—somehow to let Alathea know the truth.
When she finished the pages she stopped.
"I think he is quite right," she said, but I had not heard what the argument was, so I could only say "Yes!"
"Will it interest you going to England?" I then asked.
"I dare say."
"I have a place there you know. Shall you care to live in it after the war is over?"
"I believe it is the duty of people to live in their homes if they have inherited them as a trust."
"And I can always count upon you to do your duty."
"I hope so."
Then I exerted myself and talked to her about politics and what were my views and aims. She entered into this stiffly, and so an hour passed, but all the time I could feel that her inner self was disturbed, and more resentful and rebellious than ever. We had been two puppets making conversation all the time, neither had said anything naturally.