Carteret [surprised]. Why?
Rachel. You find me on the road in the dark with a young man. How do you know I was not running away with him?
Carteret [smiling]. Well, if you were, you weren't doing it very successfully. To tell the truth, there were so many things to think of that night after fettling up the motor and taking you back, that I hadn't time to wonder what you were after. [A pause].
Rachel. As a matter of fact, I have heard something about Jack Thornton—he's dead.
Carteret [interested but not suspicious]. Dead! How do you know?
Rachel. I saw it in an evening paper six weeks ago. It was a night you were away inspecting at Portsmouth or something. I meant to tell you. It was a horrible story. He was in East Africa—he went there to farm—he was one of a party who had a skirmish with some natives—they had quarrelled about something and he and another Englishman were killed.
Carteret [sympathetically]. Oh, a bad business. Yes. I am sorry.
Rachel [impulsively]. I was not, very—I couldn't bear to think of all that time he had been mixed up in. No, when I heard that he was dead, it was a relief. I don't want to be reminded of him—to be reminded of all that time. Oh, Will, if you knew what the sense of security and happiness is of being married to you. I do love you.
Carteret. I'm very glad to hear it. Look here; confess you weren't in love with me when we married.
Rachel. We married so very soon, you see. I hadn't time.