"Tomorrow," reminded Spence gently, "is Friday."
"Yes, I know. And if I go, do I—we—go tomorrow?"
"It would be advisable."
"The time doesn't matter," mused Desire. "But—do you mind if I speak quite plainly?"
"Not at all. You have hardened me to plain speaking."
"I have been thinking over what you told me. It does make a difference. I see that I need not be afraid of—of what I was afraid of. It's as if—as if we had both had the measles."
"You can take—" began Spence, but stopped him-self. It would never do to remind her that one may take the measles twice.
"Of course you won't believe it, not for a long time anyway," she went on in the tone of an indulgent grand-mother, "but love is only an episode. You are fortunate to be well over it."
Spence sighed. He hadn't intended to sigh. It just happened. Fortunately it was the correct thing.
"I don't want to distress you," kindly, "but we were rather vague the other night. I understood the main fact, but that is about all. You didn't tell me what happened after."