“Well, I’m sorry,” answered the man. “I don’t mean to be brutal, I’m sure, and I don’t think I’m cynical either. I look at things as they are, not as they ought to be. We are not angels, and the millennium hasn’t come yet. I suppose it would be bad for us if it did, just now. But we used to be very good friends last year. I don’t see why we shouldn’t be again.”
“Friends! Oh no!”
Lady Fan turned from him and made a step or two alone, out through the moonlight, towards the house. Brook did not move. Perhaps he knew that she would come back, as indeed she did, stopping suddenly and turning round to face him again.
“Brook,” she began more softly, “do you remember that evening up at the Acropolis—at sunset? Do you remember what you said?”
“Yes, I think I do.”
“You said that if I could get free you would marry me.”
“Yes.” The man’s tone had changed suddenly.
“Well—I believed you, that’s all.”
Brook stood quite still, and looked at her quietly. Some seconds passed before she spoke again.
“You did not mean it?” she asked sorrowfully.