"Not then. I did afterwards."
"How long afterwards—the other day?"
"Ye-yes; I think so."
"I see—when you wanted to believe it. Not before."
She was trembling, but she gathered together all her feeble forces for the defence.
"No, no; don't you remember? At the very first—the day of our engagement—we were both so miserable at the idea of your going away—we did it all so recklessly—before either of us thought. You see, Ted, you were so very young."
"It's a pity that didn't strike you before."
"It did, it did; but I wouldn't think of it. I blinded myself. The fact is, we were both as mad as hatters. You know people can't get married in that state. We should have had to wait for a—a lucid interval."
Ted recognised the miserable pleasantry; it was what he had said to her himself a day or two after their engagement. The phrase had amused Audrey at the time and lodged in her memory. She borrowed it now in her hour of need, and laughed, unconscious of her plagiarism.
"I understand perfectly. You want to get rid of me as a proof of your own sanity. Is that it?"