He came in.
“Allein,” he quoted, “zum ersten mal allein.”
She rose hurriedly and glanced at the door which he had shut. It was raining; the windows were closed.
“I am seriously thinking of looking after my affairs in Canada. It would be a long journey,” she said.
“In Canada?” he repeated. “What about your promise to me? Our marriage?”
“I thought you had forgotten about marriage. It is some time since we talked of love—we have talked very little about marriage.”
She undid her scent bottle on her chatelaine.
“Dearest,” he murmured, taking her hand while his heart beat tumultuously. He thought she was jealous, even though he knew she did not love him as he loved her, yet he believed, with the invincible belief of man, that she could be jealous of him. “You must not go to Canada alone. We will go there on our honeymoon!”
This proposition, sweet as it appeared to him, evidently did not raise any feeling of exhilaration in her.
“Canada is too far away for a honeymoon. You would have nothing to do there.”