"Is she going to be married?" he asked.
"Perhaps."
"Already!"
His tone was sad, and pitying, and slightly contemptuous. His lips closed after the single word and he drew his eyelids together, as he looked steadily out over the deep city towards the hills to eastward.
"Then it was true that she cared for another man," he said, in a low voice.
"Yes. It was quite true."
"She wrote me in that letter that he did not know it."
"That was true also."
"And that he was not in the least in love with her."
"She thought so."