I was silent. Should I tell her, or should I say nothing about my knowledge of her perfidy?
“Why do you not speak?” she urged. “Surely if I have caused you pain I ought to know the reason!”
“You know the reason,” I answered in a mechanical voice, regarding her coldly.
“No, I do not.”
“In this matter it is entirely unnecessary to lie to me, Edith,” I said; “I am aware of the truth.”
“The truth? What truth?”
“That you do not love me,” I said hoarsely.
At that instant the train rushed into the station, and my voice was almost drowned by the noise of the escaping steam. As I thought she deserved to suffer, I was not sorry for the interruption.
“Gerald!” she cried, gripping me by the hand, “what are you saying? What have I done?”
“It is enough,” I answered, my voice broken by emotion, which I could no longer suppress, for my heart was at that moment bursting with grief. “Good-bye;” and turning, I raised my hat and stepped into the empty compartment, in which a porter had placed my bag.