“I don’t know. I just feel I can’t. It’s no use.”
“When did you mean to tell me?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you mean ever to allude to the matter again, if I hadn’t?”
“Yes, I should have told you, because I knew you were waiting. I—I—often I have thought that I shall never marry any one.”
She looked into the fire. Her face had become almost mysterious.
“Some women don’t need—that,” she murmured.
The fire played over her pale yellow hair.
“Abnormal women!” he exclaimed violently.
She turned.