"I'm not being at all funny," protested Edgar. There was a sound of consent from Patricia. He went on, undeterred. "The reason you don't love anybody else is that you're in love with yourself."
"Oh." Patricia had not been so forewarned as to steel herself; and this shock depressed her. In a very low voice she said, trying to hide her wound: "I'm not much in love with myself at this moment."
The tone was so sad that unconsciously Edgar pressed her hands in pain. He would have done so much to save her from humiliation; and yet his way was clear and his attitude deliberately adopted.
"This is your wickedness, I suppose?" he asked patiently. Patricia nodded.
"At least, not wickedness—silliness. But perhaps you'd think it worse. I'd better tell you. Five minutes ago—a few days ago—I thought I was in love with a man."
"Harry Greenlees," interposed Edgar. Again Patricia nodded.
"I can't have been. I was attracted to him—I thought I was in love with him. I thought he was my ideal man. I was fond of him. But when it came to the point I felt I couldn't ever marry him. And as a matter of fact he didn't want to marry me. He only wanted to have a love affair with me. But I only found that out at the end. Well, it's a very little while ago, and I was in great anguish; and now I've forgotten him. It couldn't have been anything; anything but just a silly playing at love and beauty. It wasn't his fault. He did care for me in his own way; but it was a grown-up way; and I wasn't ready for grown-up love. I'm not ready now. I'm shallow. I don't think I could love anybody. Perhaps what you said is true."
Edgar had listened with attention; and he could tell that she was being painfully honest, and that she could not help being honest with him; and this made him feel proud and humble. It seemed to Edgar to be the first step in such a relation as theirs must be if it was to lead to happiness for them both.
"There doesn't seem to me to be much wickedness there," he suggested mildly.
"No, there isn't," said Patricia, with a faint colour coming to her cheeks. "The wickedness comes later. The wickedness comes up to last night." She could tell that he was now really serious, and she faltered. "It's ... it's Monty," she concluded. Edgar's head jerked.