He is so wise,
such a man of the world! But I told him that I meant to come whatever he
could say--and afterwards it turned out that he wanted to come too. He was
really quite keen. Wasn't that sweet of him? You would adore Cuthbert if
you knew him as well as I do. But, of course, that's absurd." She suddenly
became intense. "Sancie!" she said, then stopped and peered.
"Yes?" It was a sobered goddess who waited for close quarters. Vicky put
her question, but peered no more.
"I wish you would tell me one thing, which--has always puzzled me. But
don't, if you would rather not. How did you--I simply can't understand it
--how did you ever--? I suppose you loved him very much?"
Sanchia was in a hard stare. "Yes," she said slowly, "I suppose I did."
Vicky's head darted back.
"Ah! But now you don't a bit. I knew you didn't! Sancie, that's what I
can't understand. Because, you know, when you're married you do. You
always love the same person. You must--you can't help it. He's so natural;
he knows things that you know. He knows--everything. Oh, Sancie, I can't
talk about it, but you understand, don't you?"
Poor Sancie nodded, not able to look up. Alas for her secrets, offered,
taken, and forgotten! But Vicky's vivacious fingers groped in her empty
cupboard.
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