“You mean, I might have married you.”
“I’m not worth much, but at least I could never have betrayed the white angel in you.”
She leaned towards him and spoke earnestly, almost like a child to an older person in whom it has faith.
“Do you think such an angel could do anything in—in this sort of world?”
“Modern London?”
She nodded, keeping her eyes still on him. He guessed at once of what she was thinking.
“Do anything—is rather vague,” he replied evasively. “What sort of thing?”
Suddenly she threw off all reserve and let her temper go.
“If an angel were striving with a common American, do you mean to tell me you don’t know which would go to the wall in our world?” she cried. “Robin, you may be a thousand things, but you aren’t a fool. Nor am I—not au fond. And yet I have thought—I have wondered—”
She stopped.