She looked taken aback, as I hoped she would.
'For—for what happened.'
'My dear Audrey! Anybody would have made the same mistake. I don't wonder you took me for a burglar.'
'I didn't mean that. I meant—five years ago.'
I laughed. I was not feeling like laughter at the moment, but I did my best, and had the satisfaction of seeing that it jarred upon her.
'Surely you're not worrying yourself about that?' I said. I laughed again. Very jovial and debonair I was that winter morning.
The brief moment in which we might have softened towards each other was over. There was a glitter in her blue eyes which told me that it was once more war between us.
'I thought you would get over it,' she said.
'Well,' I said, 'I was only twenty-five. One's heart doesn't break at twenty-five.'
'I don't think yours would ever be likely to break, Peter.'