'When did she discover this? Her letters to me have never breathed a suspicion of it.'
Annot did not reply, but continued to trace the pattern of the carpet with a foot like that of Cinderella.
'When did she adopt this new view?' asked Roland, almost sternly.
'Recently, I suppose.'
'We know our own minds, surely, so what can her capricious ideas matter to us? If you love me, Annot, they can make no difference.'
She only winced a little, and averted her face still more, as if she dared not meet his dark, earnest, and inquiring eyes.
'Speak!' he exclaimed.
'Women change their minds often, it is said—why may not I, by advice?'
'God keep me, Annot! Then the change is with yourself? Has our past, so far as you are concerned, been all duplicity and falsehood?'
'As when last we spoke on this matter, your language is unpleasant, Roland,' said Annot, as if seeking a cause for indignation or complaint.