"I wouldn't have cared; I was an imaginative child—and could have lived quite happy with my fancies on very, very little.... I was a sensitive and affectionate child—inclined to be demonstrative. You wouldn't believe it, would you?"
"I can understand it."
"Can you? It's odd because I have changed so.... I was quite romantic about my mother—madly in love with her.... There is nothing more to say.... In boarding-school I was perfectly aware that I was being given the best grooming that we could afford. Even then romance persisted. I had the ideas of a coloured picture-book concerning men and love and marriage. I remember, as a very little child, that I had a picture-book showing Cinderella's wedding. It was a very golden sort of picture. It coloured my ideas long after I was grown up."
She moved her head a little, looked up for an instant and smiled; but at his answering smile she turned her cheek to his shoulder, hastily, and lay silent for a while. Presently she continued in a low voice:
"It was when we were returning for the April vacation—and the platform was crowded and some of the girls' brothers were there. There were two trains in—and much confusion—I don't know how I became separated from Miss Buckley and my schoolmates—I don't know to this day how I found myself on the Baltimore train, and Gladys Leeds's brother laughing and talking and the train moving faster and faster.... There is no use saying any more. I was as ignorant as I was innocent—a perfect little fool, frightened, excited, even amused by turns.... He had been attentive to me. We both were fools. Only finally I became badly scared and he talked such nonsense—and I managed to slip away from him and board the train at Baltimore as soon as we arrived there.... If he hadn't found me and returned to New York with me, it might not have been known. But we were recognised on the train and—it was a dreadful thing for me when I arrived home after midnight...."
She fell silent; once or twice he looked down at her and saw that her eyes were closed. Then, with a quick, uneven breath:
"I think you know the rest, don't you?"
"I think so."
But she went on in a low, emotionless voice: "I was treated like a damaged gown—for which depreciation in value somebody was to be made responsible. I suffered; days and nights seemed unreal. There were lawyers; did you know it?"
"No."