His voice was cold, but a sudden anger blazed in his eyes.
"There are drugs for both," he said.
She shivered.
"I have tried to buy happiness as I bought diamonds," she continued. "I have gone from place to place in pursuit of it. I have cheated myself with the belief that I might find it. I did not know that the lack lay in myself—always in myself."
She was silent, and he softened suddenly. "And you have never found it?" he asked. "Of all the things that you craved in youth there is lacking to you now—only your ambition."
She raised her head.
"And love," she finished.
His voice grew hard again.
"We are speaking of realities," he returned, and added, bitterly: "Who should have had love—if not you?"
They had passed the lake, and were walking through the Ramble. The dead leaves rustled beneath their feet.