You are only reminding me of things which I try all the time to forget." "Believe me," Lessingham answered wistfully, "I am only too content to ignore him, to forget that he exists, to remember only that you are the woman who has changed my life." Philippa looked at him in something like dismay, rather like a child who has started an engine which she has no idea how to stop.
"But you must not--you must not talk to me like this!" His hand closed upon hers.

It lay in his grasp, unyielding, cold, yet passive.
"Why not ?" he whispered.

"I have the one unalterable right, and I am willing to pay the great price." "Right ?" she faltered.
"The right of loving you--the right of loving you better than any woman in the world." There was a queer silence, only partly due, as she was instantly aware, to the emotion of the moment.

A door behind them had opened.

Philippa's quicker senses had recognised her husband's footsteps.