On the third morning of their stay at Monte Carlo Thornton returned from a short stroll and came into their room.
“A man I know has just come by the train and I fled from him,” he said; “let us go somewhere else.”
Clytie was pleased.
“I am glad you still want us to be quite, quite alone,” she replied. “But you are sure you are not a little bit weary of me?”
He answered as many millions of men more or less sincere have answered. And Clytie thought neither of believing nor of disbelieving him, as many millions of women have done. The subjective is apt to crop up afterwards and it generally causes trouble. But in the passion of a kiss woman, being, like man, of flesh and blood, and not an abstraction, does not calculate remote psychological contingencies; if she does, the kissing is all a mistake. Once, towards the end of their honeymoon, Clytie did touch upon the subjective. They were sitting by the ruined tower on the hill above the Strada Romana. Clytie was heated and had taken off her hat, and the breeze ruffled her hair as she leaned against the trunk of a tree. Thornton sprawled by her side, resting his chin on his hand and looking at her.
“I always grudge your wearing a hat,” he said. “Your beautiful hair ought not to be hidden. You look much lovelier now that it is free for the wind to kiss.”
She laughed a contented little laugh, throwing her chin up, according to her way.
“Do you know, Thornton,” she said with a little hesitation, in which there was much charm, “being called beautiful every day is one of the great novelties of the situation. I always knew I was good to look upon, and sometimes I really was very pleased to behold myself. But before I knew you, dear, it never made anything of a factor in my daily life. And now I almost begin to think it's the only quality I have.”
“Given that, you can let all the others go——” He waved his hand vaguely, consigning them to the Ewigkeit. “But that's not all that you love me for, is it, dear?” An idle question, with an unsuspected fear lurking in its heart.
“I don't know why I love you. It has never occurred to me to investigate the matter.”