"It doesn't matter. She doesn't exist. What difference does she make?"
She rose for better delivery of what she had to say.
"She makes the whole difference. It's not that I'm afraid of her. I don't think I am. I believe that you love me."
"Ah—if you believe that—" He came nearer.
"I do believe it. It's to me that it makes the difference. I must be honest with you. It's not that I'm afraid. It is—I think—that I'm disgusted."
He lowered his eyes and moved from her uneasily.
"I was horrified enough when I first knew of it, as you know. You know, too, that I forgave you, and that I forgot. That was because I didn't realise it. I didn't know what it was. I couldn't before I had seen her. Now I have seen her, and I know."
"What do you know?" he said coldly.
"The awfulness of it."
"Do you! Do you!"