"But you and I are here," said Stella, quietly. "Julian, how could you believe what Eurydice told you?"
Julian lowered his eyes.
"Must I tell you now?" he asked gravely. "I'd rather not."
"Yes, I think you must," said Stella, relentlessly, "You needn't tell me much, but you must say enough for me to go on with. If you don't, I can't talk at all; I can only be afraid."
Julian kept his eyes on a tea-stained spot of marble. There was no confidence in his voice now; it was not even very steady as he answered her.
"I made a mistake," he said. "You weren't there. I wanted you to have everything there was. I can't explain. I ought to have let you choose, but if you'd chosen wrong I should have felt such a cur. I can't say any more here. Please, Stella!"
She was quick to let him off.
"I oughtn't to have left you so soon," she said penitently; "that was quite my fault."
Julian made no answer. He drew an imaginary pattern on the table with a fork; he couldn't think why they'd given him a fork unless it was a prevision that he would need something to fidget with. It helped him to recover his assurance.
"I suppose you know," he said reflectively, contemplating the unsuspicious Hindu on his right, "that I'm never going to let you out of my sight again?"