At last it came.
"No," he said inflexibly. "You have no--right--to ask anything I
haven't chosen to tell you. When you gave me your love, you gave me
your faith, too. I warned you what it might mean--but you gave it.
And I"--his voice deepened--"I worshipped you for it! But I see now, I
asked too much of you. More"--cynically--"than any woman has to give."
"Then--then"--her voice trembled--"you mean you won't tell me anything
more?"
"I can't."
"And--and Adrienne? Everything must go on just the same?"
"Just the same"--implacably.
She looked at him, curiously.
"And you expect me still to feel the same towards you, I suppose? To
behave as though nothing had come between us?"
For a moment his control gave way.
"I expect nothing," he said hoarsely. "I shall never ask you for
anything again--neither love nor friendship. As you have decreed, so
it shall be!"
Slowly, with bent head, Diana turned and left the room.
So this was the end! She had made her appeal, risked everything on his
love for her--and lost. Adrienne de Gervais was stronger than she!
Hereafter, she supposed, they would live as so many other husbands and
wives lived--outwardly good friends, but actually with all the
beautiful links of love and understanding shattered and broken.
* * * * * *
"Since the first night of the play they've hardly said a word to each
other--only when it's absolutely necessary.
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