"I—don't—know. Why did you say such a thing?"
"Forgive me, dear!"
She slowly shook her head:
"You've made me think of—things," she said. "You shouldn't ever have done it."
"Done what, Valerie?"
"What you did—what you said—which makes it impossible for me to—to ever again be what I have been to you—even pose for you—as I did—"
"You mean that you won't pose for me any more?" he asked, aghast.
"Only—in costume." She sat on the edge of the sofa, head averted, looking steadily down at the hearth below. There was a pink spot on either cheek.
He thought a moment. "Valerie," he said, "I believe we had better finish what we have only begun to say."
"Is there—anything more?" she asked, unsmiling.