"Very." He rose and stood by the fireplace looking down at her. "It wasn't the flat I was alluding to." With ostentatious deliberation he selected a cigarette and lit it. "Do you know it's four years since we've seen one another?"
"Quite strangers, aren't we?" she agreed, lightly.
"Exactly—the very word. Strangers. But through no wish of mine."
"Nor mine, either, my dear man. It's simply the inevitable result of four years' separation."
"I disagree; the result is by no manner of means inevitable. However, I won't press the point. But was it absolutely essential that those people should have stopped to bridge this afternoon? They had the decency to suggest going."
It was not a happy way of putting it, and a red spot burned for a moment on his wife's cheek.
"And I had not the decency to let them, you imply." She laughed a little shortly. "Well, since you've started this conversation, I suppose we may as well have it out."
Hugh's hand clenched suddenly behind his back, and he stood very still. A little dully, he wondered what was coming.
"I can only hope that you will be sensible and try and look at the matter from all points of view." She, too, lit a cigarette, and stared at him deliberately. "In the first place, I suppose I've changed—considerably. And in order to save any misunderstanding, it's just as well that we should both know where we stand."
"You mean you don't love me any more?" said her husband, slowly.