"I wish we could have known her," Constance said.
The woman, who had showed them about, had gone to another room and left them alone.
"There seems to have been no picture of her and nothing of hers left here that any one can tell me about; but," Alan choked, "it's good to be able to think of her as I can now."
"I know," Constance said. "When you were away, I used to think of you as finding out about her and—and I wanted to be with you. I'm glad I'm with you now, though you don't need me any more!"
"Not need you!"
"I mean—no one can say anything against her now!"
Alan drew nearer her, trembling.
"I can never thank you—I can never tell you what you did for me, believing in—her and in me, no matter how things looked. And then, coming up here as you did—for me!"
"Yes, it was for you, Alan!"
"Constance!" He caught her. She let him hold her; then, still clinging to him, she put him a little away.