“Of course you may,” answered Eline, rather surprised.
“Well, then—why we are no longer to each other what we were formerly, when your parents were still living? It is now four years since I married and went to India, and now that we have returned, now when I see you again, all seems so different between yourself and me. I have no acquaintances, and but few relations in the Hague, and I should so much like to keep my old friends to myself.”
“But, Jeanne——”
“Yes; I know you think it foolish of me to talk like that; but at times I feel so terribly depressed with all that flummery and false excitement, I do so long to unburden myself to some dear true friend—for of course I cannot say all I wish to my husband.”
“Why not?”
“Oh, he has enough of his own worries; he is ill, and—peevish.”
“But, Jeanne, I really don’t see what change has come between us.”
“Perhaps it is only my fancy after all. You see, formerly we used to be oftener together, now you move in such a different circle. You go out a good deal, and I—well, you see, we have become much estranged from one another.”
“But considering that we have not seen each other for four years——”
“But we kept up the correspondence.”