Memories of the past, of all the incomprehensible episodes of their acquaintance—his refusal to recognise her, his reluctance to accept her friendship—came crowding in upon her, threatening the destruction of her new-found happiness.
"Not if you can be strong—not if you'll trust me." He looked at her searchingly.
"Trust you? But I do trust you. Should I have . . . Oh, Max!" the warm colour dyed her face from chin to brow—"Could I love you if I didn't trust you?"
There was a tender, almost compassionate expression in his eyes as he answered, rather sadly:—
"Ah, my dear, we don't know what 'trust' really means until we are called upon to give it. . . . And I want so much from you!"
Diana slipped her hand confidently into his.
"Tell me," she said, smiling at him. "I don't think I shall fail you."
He was silent for a while, wondering if the next words he spoke would set them as far apart as though the previous hour had never been. At last he spoke.
"Do you believe that husbands and wives should have no secrets from one another?" he asked abruptly.
Diana had never really given the matter consideration—never formulated such a question in her mind. But now, in the light of love's awakening; she instinctively knew the answer to it. Her opinion leaped into life fully formed; she was aware, without the shadow of a doubt, of her own feelings on the subject.