"I can't imagine any change that could take place at present."
She hid a hot flush of shame. She was obviously of the opinion that he had interpreted her meaning in the light of a desire for marriage. All earthly possibilities had been discussed between them: this one alone had been sedulously avoided in all their conversations.
"Don't misunderstand me," he continued, determined to skirt the dangerous subject with grace and ease, "there's no question here of anything external, of any change of front with reference to the world. It's far too late for that. … Let us remain—if I may so put it—in our spiritual four walls. Given our characters or, I had better say, given your character I see no other relation between us that promises any permanence…. If I were to pursue you with a kind of infatuation, or you me with jealousy—it would be insupportable to us both."
She did not reply but gently rolled and unrolled the narrow, blue silk scarf of her gown.
"As it is, we live happily and at peace," he went on, "Each of us has liberty and an individual existence and yet we know how deeply rooted our hearts are in each other."
She heaved a sigh of painful oppression. "Aren't you content?" he asked,
"For heaven's sake! Surely!" Her voice was frightened, "No one could be more content than I. If only——"
"Well—what?"
"If only it weren't for the lonely evenings!"
A silence ensued. This was a sore point and had always been. He knew it well. But he had to have his evenings to himself. There was nothing to be done about that.