"They are that already," Nora said bitterly.
"Perhaps they have some reason to be, dear." He spoke quietly, but he had implied that the fault was hers, and the angry blood rushed to her cheeks.
"The Selenecks are absurd and ridiculously sensitive," she said. "They have chosen to take offence at nothing, and——"
"Nora, they are my best friends!"
"Is that any reason why they should be mine?"
"Yes, I think so."
"And if I do not like them—if I find their manners and ways too different to mine—what then?"
There was a faint sneer in tone and look which was intentional, and which she knew was undeserved, but she could not help herself. She hated the Selenecks and the whole crowd of small military nobodies struggling for advancement and their daily bread. Why should she be forced to live her life amongst them?
Wolff made no answer to her question. He was sufficiently calm to feel with its full poignancy how fleeting and unstable their newly won happiness had been. The barrier was raised again—the more formidable because it had been once so easily overcome. Yet, with the tenacity of despair he clung to the appearance of things, and kept his teeth tight-clenched upon an angry, bitter retort. He was spared all further temptation. The door-bell rang, and he turned to Nora with a quiet question as though nothing had happened.
"Is that Miles, or is he at home?"