“Perhaps it was rather a good thing that I came away,” she said, after a moment’s pause. “I was growing nervy. A woman with nerves is difficult to live with. I have been thinking, and finding out things. It is astonishing what a lot I’ve learned about myself just lately. I want to do better.”
“It’s been my fault,” he insisted. “I never made sufficient allowance for your youth, dear. We’ll try again—make a fresh start. We’ll talk things out together and not bottle up grievances. We have never talked freely enough to one another.”
“No,” she said.
“I’m rather glad,” he said presently, “that things came to a head. It has opened up the way to a better understanding. You are the sort of woman a man learns to rely upon. You’re honest. When I recall the things I said to you that night I am ashamed of myself.”
“Never mind that now,” she said quickly. “I don’t want to think of that. We agreed not to talk of that.”
She got up suddenly and stood in front of him, looking down at him with softened, smiling eyes.
“I want to ask a favour,” she said, “and I feel that that isn’t quite honest just at the moment. It’s like taking advantage of our talk. That’s so like a woman, isn’t it?”
He sprang up from his seat and took her by the shoulders and kissed her.
“It’s the most generous response you could make,” he said—“to ask a favour. It’s a proof of your trust anyhow.”
“It’s something very big,” she said, with her earnest eyes lifted to his face. “If you are altogether against it I’ll not insist.”