“I hesitated a long time about telling you,” she went on. “But you must know. I am sure it’s right to tell you.”
“By all means, dearest,” he answered.
“It’s a long story,” she said. “I must go back to my first operation.” And then she began, and told him how she had found herself thinking of Mr. Harding, and of the strange vision she had had; she told of all her fevered excitements, and of her confession to him. When she finished she was trembling all over, and her face and throat were flushed.
Thyrsis sat for a while in silence, looking very grave. “I see,” he said.
“You—you are not angry with me?” she asked.
“No, I’m not angry,” he replied. “But tell me, what has been going on since?”
“Well,” said Corydon, “Mr. Harding has been coming here to see me. He saw I needed help, and he couldn’t refuse it. It was—it was his duty to come.”
“Yes,” said the other. “Go on.”
“Well, I think he had an idea that the whole thing was a product of my sickness; and when I was well again, it would all be over.”
“And is it, Corydon?”