fear to tell me what concerns us both. Don't think that leaving me in ignorance of unpleasant facts is any kindness to me. If anything happens to cause you anxiety, I should feel humiliated if you were left to endure it all alone."
"'Sure I was that worritted,' burst out Mrs. Connor."
He remained silent, troubled, uncertain as yet, how much she knew of what had happened in the garden the night before.
"Clive, dear, don't let this thing spoil anything for us. I know about it. Don't let any shadow fall upon this house of ours."
"You saw me last night in the garden."
Between diffidence and the candour that characterised her, she hesitated; then:
"Dear, a very strange thing has happened. Until last night never in all my life, try as I might, could I ever 'see clearly' anything that concerned you. Never have I been able to 'find' you anywhere—even when my need was desperate—when my heart seemed breaking—"