Everything, it reminded her, had been perfect until she and Benis had sat upon the hill in the sunset and talked about Mary.

Something had happened then.
Like a certain ancestress she had coveted the fruit of knowledge and knowledge had been given her.

Not at once--Benis had at first been distinctly reluctant--but by gentle persistence she had won through his cool reserve.

Abruptly and without visible reason, his attitude had changed.

He had said in that drawling voice of his, "You wish me to talk about Mary ?" And then, suddenly, he had talked.
He had told her several things.