"My dear," he said, "it seems to me that if you love him you needs
_must_ trust him. 'Perfect love casteth out fear.'"
Diana shook her head.
"Mightn't you reverse that, Pobs, and say that he would trust _me_--if
he loves me?"
"No, not necessarily." Alan sucked at his pipe. "He knows what his
secret is, and whether it is right or wrong for you to share it. You
haven't that knowledge. And that's where your trust must come in. You
have to believe in him enough to leave it to him to decide whether you
ought to be told or not. Have you no confidence in his judgment?"
"I don't think husbands and wives should have secrets from one
another," protested Diana obstinately.
"Does he propose to have any other than this one?"
"No."
"Then I don't see that you need complain. The present and the future
are yours, but you've no right to demand the past as well. And this
secret, whatever it may be, belongs to the past."
"As far as I can see it will be cropping up in the future as well,"
said Diana ruefully. "It seems to be a 'continued in our next' kind of
mystery."
Stair laughed boyishly.
"It should add a zest to life if that's the case," he retorted.
Diana was silent a moment. Then she said suddenly:--
"Pobs, what am I to do?"
Instantly Stair became grave again.
"My dear, do you love him?"
Diana nodded, her eyes replying.
"Then nothing else matters a straw.
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