"Ah, I didn't know," sighed Colville.
"The more she disliked them, the better she would use them. It's because our engagement is so distasteful to her that she's determined to feel that she did nothing to oppose it."
"But how can you tell that it's distasteful, then?"
"She lets you feel it by—not saying anything about it."
"I can't see how—"
"She never speaks of you. I don't believe she ever mentions your name. She asks me about the places where I've been, and about the people—every one but you. It's very uncomfortable."
"Yes," said Colville, "it's uncomfortable."
"And if I allude to letters from home, she merely presses her lips together. It's perfectly wretched."
"I see. It's I whom she dislikes, and I would do anything to please her. She must know that," mused Colville aloud. "Imogene!" he exclaimed, with a sudden inspiration. "Why shouldn't I go away?"
"Go away?" she palpitated. "What should I do?"