"Of course that's the proper answer," said Miss Cavendish. "We're all mysteries, aren't we?"
"Even to ourselves," Clytie offered.
"Oh, yes, women understand other women, but they never understand themselves."
Gay P. Summer put in, "I don't think any man ever understands women who hasn't had sisters. I never had one."
"That's true," said Granthope. He saw his chance, and turned to Clytie. "I never had a sister, either," he said deliberately, catching her eye.
Clytie's eyebrows went up. He nodded. It was question and answer. She moved toward him a little, unnoticed, and his hand touched hers.
Mr. Summer added: "I don't care, though, I prefer to have women mysteries. It's more interesting."
Mrs. Page came up in time to hear the last words. "Oscar Wilde says that women are sphinxes without secrets," she contributed.
"I wonder if any woman is happy enough not to have a secret," Clytie said.
"I hope that yours will never make you unhappy," Granthope replied; and added: "I don't think it will." He pressed her hand again, unobserved.