"Should not she like to live there once more?"
"No; she could never forget, never while life lasted, what she had suffered there."
And then she told her tale—told it looking with dry eyes over the desolate wilderness which had once been so fair a home—told it all, simply and without colouring, as a Frenchman might—supposing a Frenchman capable of telling an unvarnished narrative—relate how the Uhlans entered his modest habitation, and, not without insult, stripped it bare.
"But do not you think your husband would like to come back here?" he inquired after a long pause.
"Back here?" she repeated, "I think I understand now your intention; but do not try to carry it out; Archie would never be happy here without me."
"Is your objection to Homewood, then, so rooted?" he inquired, with a disappointed smile.
For answer she only turned away her head, and he repeated his question.
Then she said, "I should not like my poor husband to arrange his future with any reference to me."