"I was ashamed of the episode in my life which brought about the

marriage," he continued. "I can't explain it precisely now. I could

have done it if you had taken it differently!"

"But how can I?" she burst out. "Here I have been saying, or

writing, that--that you might love me, or something of the

sort!--just out of charity--and all the time--oh, it is perfectly

damnable how things are!" she said, stamping her foot in a nervous

quiver.

"You take me wrong, Sue! I never thought you cared for me at all,

till quite lately; so I felt it did not matter! Do you care for me,

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Sue?--you know how I mean?--I don't like 'out of charity' at all!"

It was a question which in the circumstances Sue did not choose to

answer.

"I suppose she--your wife--is--a very pretty woman, even if she's

wicked?" she asked quickly.

"She's pretty enough, as far as that goes."

"Prettier than I am, no doubt!"

"You are not the least alike. And I have never seen her for

years... But she's sure to come back--they always do!"

"How strange of you to stay apart from her like this!" said Sue,

her trembling lip and lumpy throat belying her irony. "You, such a

religious man. How will the demi-gods in your Pantheon--I mean those

legendary persons you call saints--intercede for you after this?

Now if I had done such a thing it would have been different, and not

remarkable, for I at least don't regard marriage as a sacrament.

Your theories are not so advanced as your practice!"

"Sue, you are terribly cutting when you like to be--a perfect

Voltaire! But you must treat me as you will!"

When she saw how wretched he was she softened, and trying to blink

away her sympathetic tears said with all the winning reproachfulness

of a heart-hurt woman: "Ah--you should have told me before you gave

me that idea that you wanted to be allowed to love me! I had no

feeling before that moment at the railway-station, except--" For

once Sue was as miserable as he, in her attempts to keep herself free

from emotion, and her less than half-success.

"Don't cry, dear!" he implored.

"I am--not crying--because I meant to--love you; but because of your

want of--confidence!"

They were quite screened from the market-square without, and he could

not help putting out his arm towards her waist. His momentary desire

was the means of her rallying. "No, no!" she said, drawing back

stringently, and wiping her eyes. "Of course not! It would be

hypocrisy to pretend that it would be meant as from my cousin; and it

can't be in any other way."




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