"Well, dear, whatever I told you, I couldn't have told you that. It
wouldn't have been true."

"He says himself that everything was true."

"Everything probably is true. But then, the point is that you don't know
the whole truth, or even half of it. That's just what he couldn't tell
you. I should have told you. That's where I bungled it. You know he left
it to me; he said I was to tell you."

"Yes, he told me that. He didn't mean to deceive me."

"No more did I. If my brother had been a bad man, dear, do you suppose
for a moment I'd have let him marry my dearest friend?"

"You didn't know. We don't know these things, Edith. That's the terrible
part of it."

"Yes, it's the terrible part of it. But _I_ knew all right. He never kept
anything from me, not for long."

"But, Edith--how _could_ he? How _could_ he? When the woman--Lady
Cayley--She was _bad_, wasn't she?"

"Of course she was bad. Bad as they make them--worse. You know she was
divorced?"

"Yes," said Anne, "that's what I do know."