“Was it like this twenty-five years ago?” she asked.
“Yvonne!”
“Did you love her—like this?”
He managed to smile. “Are you jealous?”
“Tell me about her.”
His face hardened. “Some other time, not now.”
“But you loved her, didn't you?”
“Don't be silly, dear.”
“And she loved you. If you loved her as you love me, she could not have helped——”
“Please, please, Yvonne!” he exclaimed, a dull red setting in his cheek.