"What's the matter?" he asked bluntly.
Nan was sitting with her feet on the fender, her eyes upon the flames. His question did not seem to surprise her.
"You wouldn't understand," she said, "if I were to tell you."
"Well, you might as well give me the chance," he responded. "My intelligence is up to the average, I dare say."
She looked round at him with a faint smile.
"Oh, don't be huffy, dear boy! Why should you? You want to know what is the matter? Well, I'll tell you. I'm afraid—I'm horribly afraid—that I've made a great mistake."
"You have?" said Jerry. "How? What do you mean?"
"I knew you would ask that," she said, with a little, helpless gesture of the shoulders. "And it is just that that I can't explain to you. You see, Jerry, I've only just begun to realize it myself."
Jerry was staring at her blankly.
"Do you mean, that you wish you hadn't come?" he said.