"You believe, then, that he doesn't care for her?"
"His allegiance is a memory—an old dream—of the girl she was, not of the woman she is. Isn't she older than he, Miss Sophie?"
"She is younger," I said gravely.
"She seems older—and—it's spoiling his life. He—he won't look at another woman—because in a way he feels bound to her. Some day I'm going to tell him."
I stared at her. "Tell him what, Elizabeth?"
"That he is throwing away his happiness—that there are other women."
She had risen and stood in front of me with her hand on her heart. Her eyes were like stars, and the radiance of youth shone from within and round about her. If Charlemagne should see her in such a mood——
I thought of Anne, dear Anne.
"Elizabeth," I said sharply, "if you should tell him that, he would think—that you—cared."
She swept out her arms in a charming gesture of surrender.