behind him:

"Philip."

Slowly, unbelieving, he turned. It was Josephine. For the first
time she had called him by his name. And yet the speaking of it
seemed to put a distance between them, for her voice was calm and
without emotion, as she might have spoken to Jean.

"I lay awake nearly all of the night, thinking," she said. "It was
a terrible thing that we did, and I am sorry--sorry--"

In the quickening of her breath he saw how heroically she was
fighting to speak steadily to him.

"You can't understand," she resumed, facing him with the
steadiness of despair. "You cannot understand--until you reach
Adare House. And that is what I dread, the hour when you will know
what I am, and how terrible it was for me to do what I did last
night. If you were like most other men, I wouldn't care so much.
But you have been different."

He replied in words which he would not dare to have uttered a few
hours before.

"And yet, back there when you first asked me to go with you as
your husband, you knew what I would find at Adare House?" he
asked, his voice low and tense. "You knew?"

"Yes."