Ghisleri remembered how nearly he had broken with her more than once and his conscience smote him.
"I would rather not think of it," he said simply.
"You should," she answered. "It will come some day. I know it. When it does I shall turn into a very bad woman, much worse than I am now."
"Please do not speak so; it hurts me."
"That is a phrase, my dear friend," said Maddalena. "I always tell you that you are too fond of making phrases. You ought not to do it with me. You are not really at all sensitive. I do not even believe that you have much heart, though you used to make me believe that you had."
"Have I shown you that I am heartless?"
"That is always your way of answering. You are a very strange compound of contradictions."
"Do you know, my dear lady, that you are falling into the habit of never believing a word I say?"
"I am afraid it is true," assented Maddalena, sadly. "And yet I would not be unjust to you for the world. You have given me almost the only happiness I ever knew, and yet, from having believed too much, I know that I am coming to believe too little."
"And you even think it is a mere phrase when I tell you that your distrust hurts me."