In the calm evening air the voices of Mrs.Fyne and the girls strolling aimlessly on the road could be heard.

He said to her severely: "You have understood ?" She looked at him in silence.
"That I love you," he finished.
She shook her head the least bit.
"Don't you believe me ?" he asked in a low, infuriated voice.
"Nobody would love me," she answered in a very quiet tone.

"Nobody could." He was dumb for a time, astonished beyond measure, as he well might have been.

He doubted his ears.

He was outraged.
"Eh?
What?
Can't love you?
What do you know about it?
It's my affair, isn't it?
You dare say _that_ to a man who has just told you! You must be mad!" "Very nearly," she said with the accent of pent-up sincerity, and even relieved because she was able to say something which she felt was true.
For the last few days she had felt herself several times near that madness which is but an intolerable lucidity of apprehension.
The clear voices of Mrs.Fyne and the girls were coming nearer, sounding affected in the peace of the passion-laden earth.