"You'd have married her just the same?"
"Just the same, Mary. Why?"
"Oh, nothing. I thought you'd be like that. I just wanted to make sure."
He smiled to himself. He had funny, secret thoughts that you would never know.
"Well," she said, "I didn't beat you."
"Form not good enough yet—quite."
He promised her it should be perfect by the time Mark came home.
VIII.
"The pale pearl-purple evening—" The words rushed together. She couldn't tell whether they were her own or somebody else's.
There was the queer shock of recognition that came with your own real things. It wasn't remembering though it felt like it.