Something in the recollection of those days makes soft his voice, which is not wont to be soft. "You are not fit for this life," he says, stooping down his face towards her small wan one. "It requires a tough seasoned woman, in middle life. Tell me why you have undertaken it? Why are you not—not married?"
She turns away, crimsoning painfully. "Because no one has asked me, I suppose," she answers, trying to speak banteringly.
"But you were engaged when—when we parted?"
"Yes."
"And you are not now?"
With ungovernable, unaccountable impatience, he awaits the slow brief answer.
"No."
"Had he then—h'm! h'm!—discovered anything?" Gerard asks, finding some difficulty in framing the question politely.
She fires up quickly. "Discovered anything!" she repeats, indignantly. "Do you think it is impossible for me to be honest even once in my life? I told him myself."
"You broke it off, then?"