“Yes? And⸺?”
“I find it very difficult to say the rest.”
“What is difficult?”
“Well, I still like you very much. Yesterday I met a woman. I love her too. I can’t help that. What must I do?”
Bertha turned a slightly stormier white.
“Who is she?”
“You know her. She is Anastasya Vasek.”
The news struck through something else, and, inside, her ego shrank to an almost wizened being. It seemed glad of the protection the cocoon, the something, afforded her.
“You did not—find out what my news was.”