"You may have been dreaming something out of his past. Something he remembered."
"Well anyhow I don't understand the last one."
"I do."
"But I dreamed he wanted me. Frightfully. And he didn't."
"He did. He wanted you—'frightfully'—all the time. He went to pieces if you weren't there. Don't you know why he took you out with him everywhere? Because if he hadn't he couldn't have driven half a mile out of Ghent."
"That's one of the things I'm trying to forget."
"It's one of the things you should try to remember."
He grasped her arm.
"And, Charlotte, look here. I want you to forgive him. For your own sake."
She stiffened under his touch, his look, his voice of firm, intimate authority. His insincerity repelled her.