Part 20 (1/2)
”Yes. Because of _them_.”
”And now you know all about me?”
”Yes. Now I know all about you.”
”Don't you want to know something about--about Mr. Tailleur?”
Lucy's face hardened. ”No, I don't think I want to know anything about him.”
He had made up his mind that Mr. Tailleur had been a brute to her.
”He _is_ dead.”
”Well, yes. I supposed he would be.”
”He died four years ago. I was married very young.”
”I supposed that too.”
”You don't feel that he's important?”
”Not in the very least.”
She laughed.
”When I said that I knew all about you, I only meant that I knew--I'd the sense to see--what you were. You mustn't think that I take anything for granted.”
”Ah, Mr. Lucy, dear, I'm afraid you're taking everything for granted.”
”On my soul I'm not. I'm not that sort. There's one thing about you I don't know yet, and I'm afraid to ask, and it's the only thing I really want to know. It's the only thing that matters.”
”Then ask me, ask me straight, whatever it is, and let's get it over.
Can't you trust me to tell you the truth?”
”I trust you--to tell me the truth. I want to know where I am--where we are.”
”Is it for me to say?”
”It's for you to say whether you think you can ever care for me.”
”Can't you see that I care for you?”
”No, I'd give anything to see.”
”Ah, it's so like you not to. And I thought I'd shown you--everything.”
”You haven't shown me yet whether you care enough to--to----”
He checked himself, while his love for her drew its first breath, as if it had been born but that instant, in an agony of desire and fear.