She came to a halt and looked him full in the face without a blush, an
added pallor, or any sign of emotion. At that moment she felt herself
Archdale's wife, and felt, too, that Edmonson considered her so.

"You can't have any great objects in your life, then, if you fritter
away your interest on an idle acquaintance whom you will forget as soon
as you are out of her sight, and, if you'll pardon me, who will forget
you, except when something calls up your name, or a reminiscence of
you." Even Edmonson as he stood staring at her drew his breath like one
recovering from a shock. Then as he looked her face changed and he saw
tears on her lashes. She reached out her hand toward him and raised her
eyes to his with a pathetic appeal. "I know it's the habit of gentlemen
to make gallant speeches," she said, "probably more in your own country
than here; we are more simple, and as for me, I'm ignorant, I know that
very well. I am not as quick as other people, I suppose, but I don't
like this sort of thing, I never shall. Somehow, it hurts me, it seems
as if one despised me. Well, never mind, it's not that, of course; you
are in the habit of doing it, because it's the fashion. But why won't
you talk to me naturally, just as other people do?"

Edmonson looked at her with absorbed attention. He was convinced. The
thing was incredible, but it was true. She was not feigning, she did not
understand him. Her blindness came from one of two causes, either she
was incapable of passion, or her heart was not yet aroused. For he
argued that if she had loved any one she must have read him.

"I will do as you ask me," he said simply, taking the only course that
was open to him unless he had wished to banish himself entirely. But as
he walked slowly on beside her again the evil look came into his
downcast eyes, and the shadow darted out in his thoughts terrible and