He stood silent and she found his words for him.
"You were Anne's lover?"
"Yes."
Her face changed before him, as it had changed an hour ago before Eliot, ashen-white and slack, quivering, suddenly old.
Tears came into his eyes, tears of remorse and pity. She saw them and her heart ached for him.
"It didn't last long," he said.
"How long?"
"From March till—till September."
"I remember."
"Maisie—I can't ask you to forgive me. But you must forgive Anne. It wasn't her fault. I made her do it. And she's been awfully unhappy about it, because of you."