“But it troubled him always like a bad dream—he could never remember exactly what he had done. He never thought I knew.”
She rose from the bench and walked away from him to the end of the terrace.
“And, my Evelyn,” he pleaded, “you loved me first because he had been all I had had. You asked nothing of me—you gave me all your love gladly.”
He had an uneasy feeling that something strange and impalpable was pushing its way between them.
“Yes,” she murmured. “It was—a long time ago.”
“Seven years. Is that a long time?”
“Yes. I was a girl then. It is always a long time to when one was a girl.”
“It doesn’t seem to me a long time!”
“Well, it’s a great while since, since this came up—like a mountain. The past is on the other side.”
“I don’t know what you mean. No kind of trouble should divide man and wife!”