“Nearly all. But they mean nothing to me now.”
They were walking slowly up and down the long terrace.
“One passes away from things,” she said, “as one goes on. It is rather a horrible feeling.”
Suddenly, moved by an impulse that was almost girlish, she stopped on the path and said:
“What is the matter with you to-day? Why are you angry with me?”
Craven flushed.
“Angry! But I am not angry!”
“Yes, you are. Tell me why.”
“How could I—I’m really not angry. As if I could be angry with you!”
“Then why are you so different?”