Guy spoke this last sentence in such a bitter tone that Eustace could not help turning round and looking at him. He was gazing moodily at the sand, but glanced upward, as he felt rather than saw that Gartney had turned round, and smiled ironically.
"You seem surprised?" he said at length.
"I am surprised," answered Eustace deliberately. "When I saw you in Italy, you spoke very differently--very differently indeed."
"Ah, but you see that was in my character of a newly-married man," sneered Guy, picking up a handful of sand and letting it stream through his fingers. "All that sort of thing is over."
"And why is it over?" asked Eustace, coldly. "Eighteen months can scarcely make so much difference----"
"It makes every difference--in my case."
"Why?"
Guy sat up suddenly, clasped his hands round his knees, and staring at the ocean, answered in a dreary voice utterly devoid of any feeling:
"I daresay it will sound ridiculous to a man like yourself, Eustace, and no doubt you and the world will laugh at me when you know my reason. But I cannot help it. I've fought against the feeling, as much as ever I could. I've made all sorts of excuses for my wife, but it's all of no use."
"I'm quite in the dark as to what you are talking about."