He smiled in silence.
She moved slightly nearer. There was the old indefinite something in her manner which had once charmed him so.
"Don't reproach yourself," she said, pleadingly; "you know you didn't love her then."
No answer.
Prudence bent nearer and kissed her husband's lips. But they did not respond.
"You loved me," she murmured, kissing him again.
In the silence that followed, during which Lawrence sat like a stone, Prudence gradually drew away from him. She stood looking at him, and the softness left her face.
"Perhaps you don't love me any more," she said, finally.
Lawrence roused himself. Everything seemed black before him, but he was conscious of trying to be gentle and courteous.
"Perhaps I never loved you," he answered.