'We are to go through it all again?'
'If you have not the force to contain him.'
'How contain him?'
Up went Colney's shoulders.
'You may see it all before you,' he said, 'straight as the Seine chaussee from the hill of La Roche Guyon.'
He looked for her recollection of the scene.
'Ah, the happy ramble that year!' she cried. 'And my Nesta just seven. We had been six months at Craye. Every day of our life together looks happy to me, looking back, though I know that every day had the same troubles. I don't think I'm deficient in courage; I think I could meet …. But the false position so cruelly weakens me. I am no woman's equal when I have to receive or visit. It seems easier to meet the worst in life-danger, death, anything. Pardon me for talking so. Perhaps we need not have left Craye or Creckholt . . . ?' she hinted an interrogation. 'Though I am not sorry; it is not good to be where one tastes poison. Here it may be as deadly, worse. Dear friend, I am so glad you remember La Roche Guyon. He was popular with the dear French people.'
'In spite of his accent.'
'It is not so bad?'
'And that you'll defend!'