“Of course, I don’t seriously mind. In reason, a man cannot object to such a trifle. I only thought you hadn’t—that was all.”
However, one ray was abstracted from the glory about her head. But afterwards, when Knight was wandering by himself over the bare and breezy hills, and meditating on the subject, that ray suddenly returned. For she might have had a lover, and never have cared in the least for him. She might have used the word improperly, and meant “admirer” all the time. Of course she had been admired; and one man might have made his admiration more prominent than that of the rest—a very natural case.
They were sitting on one of the garden seats when he found occasion to put the supposition to the test. “Did you love that lover or admirer of yours ever so little, Elfie?”
She murmured reluctantly, “Yes, I think I did.”
Knight felt the same faint touch of misery. “Only a very little?” he said.
“I am not sure how much.”
“But you are sure, darling, you loved him a little?”
“I think I am sure I loved him a little.”
“And not a great deal, Elfie?”
“My love was not supported by reverence for his powers.”