“Of course I knew you never loved me as much as I loved you,” she moaned.
“I’m afraid that’s always the case,” he said. “There’s always one who loves and one who lets himself be loved.”
He thought of Mildred, and a bitter pain traversed his heart. Norah did not answer for a long time.
“I’d been so miserably unhappy, and my life was so hateful,” she said at last.
She did not speak to him, but to herself. He had never heard her before complain of the life she had led with her husband or of her poverty. He had always admired the bold front she displayed to the world.
“And then you came along and you were so good to me. And I admired you because you were clever and it was so heavenly to have someone I could put my trust in. I loved you. I never thought it could come to an end. And without any fault of mine at all.”
Her tears began to flow again, but now she was more mistress of herself, and she hid her face in Philip’s handkerchief. She tried hard to control herself.
“Give me some more water,” she said.
She wiped her eyes.
“I’m sorry to make such a fool of myself. I was so unprepared.”