‘And, Roland, you are quite, quite sure that you love me best of all the world! That there is no other woman dearer to you than myself?’
He has just one twinge as she puts the question to him; but men are used to twinges, and he can answer honestly,—
‘Not one, my love!—not a single one! nor ever shall be. Take your husband’s word for it, and let us resolve from this moment to banish the painful memory of the Past, and live for each other only in the Future.’
And so they have and do, and there is only one thing that Lady Tresham cannot understand, which is Sir Roland’s rooted aversion to Lady Ernest Freemantle. He will not let his wife invite her down to Tresham Court, although she has often hinted she would like to visit them, and all the excuse he can give for his conduct is that he does not choose to cultivate the lady’s acquaintance.
So the matter rests, and as long as Sir Roland does not renew it, there is no need he should confess the little scene that took place in the gondola on the moonlighted Venice canal.
THE END.
