"A fisherman's float, Laetitia!"
Baffled and sighing, Laetitia kept silence for a space. The simile chafed her wits with a suspicion of a meaning hidden in it.
"If he had spoken?" she said.
"He is too truthful a man."
"And the railings of men at pussy women who wind about and will not be brought to a mark, become intelligible to me."
"Then Laetitia, if he had spoken, if, and one could have imagined him sincere . . ."
"So truthful a man?"
"I am looking at myself If!—why, then, I should have burnt to death with shame. Where have I read?—some story—of an inextinguishable spark. That would have been shot into my heart."
"Shame, Clara? You are free."
"As much as remains of me."