"I don't see," said I, "why you shouldn't unburden your heart to one who has proved himself to be a friend not only of yours, but of Adrian."
She released me, and with a wide gesture, swayed across the gravel path. I stepped to her side and mechanically we walked on, a few paces, before either of us spoke.
"I have told you," she said at last. "I have no heart to unburden. There never was an Adrian."
"There was indeed," said I, warmly.
"Yours. Not mine."
"Have you no forgiveness for him, then?" I asked earnestly.
She halted again and looked at me and at the back of her great eyes gleamed black ice.
"No," she said.
I went straight to bed-rock.
"He was the father of your dead child," said I.