Part 40 (1/2)
”I don't know. Yes. No, I don't know. It wasn't the same thing.”
”Never mind. It's very good of you to tell me.”
”I didn't mean to.”
”What made you tell me?”
”Seeing the children. I thought I could go on deceiving you; but when I saw them I knew I couldn't.”
”I see.” His voice softened. ”You told me because of them. I'm glad you told me.” He paused on that.
”Well,” he said, ”we must make the best of it.”
”That makes no difference?”
”No. Not now.”
She sighed.
”How long ago was it?” he asked.
”Five years. Charley Tailleur was the first.”
”What?”
”The first. There were others; ever so many others. I'm--that sort.”
”I don't believe you.”
”You've got to believe me. You can't marry me, and you've got to see why.”
She also paused. Her silences were terrible to him.
”I thought you did see once. It didn't seem possible that you couldn't.
Do you remember the first time I met you?”
He remembered.
”I thought you saw then. And afterward--don't you remember how you followed me out of the room--another night?”
”Yes.”
”I thought you understood, and were too shy to say so. But you didn't.
_Then_--do you remember how I waited for you at the end of the garden?--and how we sat out on the Cliff? I was trying then--the way I always try. I thought I'd make you--and you--you wouldn't see it. You only wanted to help me. You were so innocent and dear. That's what made me love you.”
”Oh,” he groaned. ”Don't.”
But she went on. ”And do you remember how you found me--that night--out on the Cliff?”