"I can't say; probably grief, as you suggest. The truth is my life here
is unbearable; my heart is breaking. I must leave you, Edmee, and go and
live in the middle of the woods. I cannot stay here any longer."

"Why is life unbearable? Explain yourself, Bernard. Now is our
opportunity for an explanation."

"Yes, with a wall between us. I can understand that you are not afraid
of me now."

"And yet it seems to me that I am only showing an interest in you; and
was I not as affectionate an hour ago when there was no wall between
us?"

"I begin to see why you are fearless, Edmee; you always find some means
of avoiding people, or of winning them over with pretty words. Ah, they
were right when they told me that all women are false, and that I must
love none of them."

"And who told you that? Your Uncle John, I suppose, or your Uncle
Walter; or was it your grandfather, Tristan?"

"You can jeer--jeer at me as much as you like. It is not my fault that
I was brought up by them. There were times, however, when they spoke the
truth."

"Bernard, would you like me to tell you why they thought women false?"

"Yes, tell me."