"It isn't me; it's him," exclaimed Claire, regardless of grammar. "I mean, after what Maurice said this afternoon—I don't know how to put it quite—I almost wish we'd both been bad!"
Miss Marley nodded. She knew the danger of blame when a tug of war is in progress, and how it weakens the side attacked.
"How can I explain to people," Claire went on, "what he's been like? I don't know whether I've told you, but he went away almost directly he found out he cared, before—long before he knew I cared, though he might have known; and he left a message to tell me about his wife, which I never got. But, oh, Miss Marley, I've never told him, I should have come if I'd got it or not! I should really, because I had to know if he cared! So you see, don't you, that if either of us was wicked it was me? Only I didn't feel wicked; I really felt awfully good. I don't see how you're to tell what's right if God doesn't let you know and people talk nonsense."
"It's not," agreed Miss Marley, dryly, "particularly easy to know."
"And his wife doesn't care for him," Claire went on. "Fancy Winn's wife not caring for him! Poor woman!"
"Why do you pity her?" Miss Marley inquired with interest.
"Well," said Claire, with a sudden dimple, "I was only thinking I shouldn't like to be Winn's wife if he didn't care for me; and then I was thinking that if he didn't, I'd make him!"
"Well, that effort doesn't seem required of you," said Miss Marley.
"No, but it only shows you that I'm much the most wicked, doesn't it?" asked Claire, with some pride.
"The points against Winn," Miss Marley said gravely, "are his age, his experience, and his wife. I feel bound to tell you that there are points against him."