‘What are you thinking of, looking so solemn?’
The unpardonable question. And he would always be asking it and she always answering sweetly with a lie; or else disagreeably with: ‘Nothing.’ No peace ever again, not even to think one’s private disloyal venomous thoughts.
‘I was thinking, Martin, I don’t believe you know a bit what I’m like.’
‘I know enough to know I love you anyway,’ he said with hearty confidence.
‘You don’t,’ she said petulantly. ‘Because you’ve never troubled to find out what I’m really like. It’s never occurred to you there might be anything more than what you see. That’s so like a man.... Lord, how stupid! Everybody dismissed with a little label. Everybody taken for granted once they’ve passed a few idiotic conventional tests....’
‘What on earth have I done now?’ cried Martin despairingly.
‘Nothing. Nothing. I’m only warning you.’
After a pause of non-comprehension he said gently:
‘Of course I don’t take you for granted, Judith. I could never do that. You’re so clever and beautiful and marvellous—much, much too good for me. Oh, my dear!—you don’t know how I value you.’ The tears came into his eyes. ‘Whatever happens, nothing can alter my idea of you. If I could believe you had any faults, they’d only make me love you more.’