"You've killed a masterpiece," he said, "between you."
"Do you mean Hugh?" she said. "What had he to do with it?"
"He married you."
"My crime was committed before he married me."
"Exactly." She was aware of the queer, nervous, upward jerk of his moustache, precluding the impermissible—"When you were in love with him."
Her face darkened as she turned to him.
"Let's talk about Nina's book. George—there isn't anybody like her. And I knew, I knew she'd do it."
"Did you know that she did it before she saw Prothero."
"I know."
"And that she's never written a line since?"