"It is not the truth," she said with infinite tenderness in her manner. "Not ruined, Evan. We can go our way and do our work, even if we are not happy. That is another thing."
"Then you are not happy?" he said eagerly.
Diana did not reply.
"Why should we not be happy?" he went on passionately, looking up now into her face. "You are mine, Diana—you belonged to me first, you have been mine all along; only I have been robbed of you;—pure robbery; nothing else. And has not a man a right to his own, wherever and whenever he finds it? You had given yourself first to me. That is irrevocable."
"No"—she said with the same gentleness, in every tone of which lurked an unutterable sorrow; it would have broken her husband's heart to hear her; and yet she was quiet, so quiet that she awed the young officer a little. "No—I had promised to give myself to you; that is all."
"You gave me your heart, Di?"
She was silent, for at the moment she could not speak
"Di!"—he insisted.
"Yes."
"That is enough. That is all."