Does it mean tea?"
"If you can wait a few minutes."
"I suppose I must. Have you heard anything of Mr. Carey?"
Robin looked at her narrowly.
"What made you think of him just then?"
"I don't know. Being here, I suppose. He often comes here, doesn't he?"
"Then this room holds more of his personality than of mine?"
There was an under sound of vexation in his voice.
"Have you heard anything?"
"No. But no doubt he's still in the North with his mother."
"How domestic. I hope there is a stool of repentance in the family
house."
"I wonder if you could ever repent of anything."
"Do you think there is anything I ought to repent of?"
"Oh, yes."
"What?"
"You might have married a man who knew the truth of you, and you married
a man incapable of ever knowing it."
He half expected an outburst of anger to follow his daring speech, but
she sat quite still, looking at him steadily. She had taken off her
gloves, and her hands lay lightly, one resting on the other.
"You mean, I might have married you."
"I'm not worth much, but at least I could never have betrayed the white
angel in you."
She leaned towards him and spoke earnestly, almost like a child to an
older person in whom it has faith.
"Do you think such an angel could do anything in--in this sort of world?"
"Modern London?"
She nodded, keeping her eyes still on him. He guessed at once of what she
was thinking.
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