“Tell me, are you engaged to him, Helena?” I demanded. “But I can see; you are.” She drew herself up as she stood, her hands behind her back.
“A fine question to ask, isn’t it? Especially in view of what we both know.”
“But you haven’t told me.”
“And am not going to.”
“Why not?”
“Because it is the right of a middle-aged woman like myself——”
“—Twenty-four,” said I.
“—To do as she likes in such matters. And she doesn’t need make any confidences with a man she hasn’t seen for years. And for whom she never—she never——”
“Helena,” said I, and I felt pale, whether or not I looked it, “be careful. That hurts.”