“No one; I thought of it myself. As I grow older, I ought to think of such things.”
“Upon my word! Of running away and leaving me?”
“That is but one side of the question. The other is that you can turn me out of your house this moment, and no one can force you to take me back. I ought to remember such things.”
“Pray what good will it do you to remember them?”
Nora hesitated a moment. “There is always some good in not losing sight of the truth.”
“The truth! You are very young to begin to talk about the truth.”
“Not too young. I am old for my age. I ought to be!” These last words were uttered with a little sigh which roused Roger to action.
“Since we are talking about the truth,” he said, “I wonder whether you know a tithe of it.”
For an instant she was silent; then, rising slowly to her feet, “What do you mean?” she asked. “Is there any secret in all that you have done for me?” Suddenly she clasped her hands, and eagerly, with a smile, went on: “You said the other day you had a romance. Is it a real romance, Roger? Are you, after all, related to me,—my cousin, my brother?”
He let her stand before him, perplexed and expectant. “It is more of a romance than that.”