She had dropped her cloak from her shoulders, and the firelight played
ruddily over her dress of shimmering white, revealing her slim young
beauty in every delicate detail. Very pale, but erect and at least
outwardly calm, she faced him.
"What I have to say to you," she said, "will make you very angry; but
I hope you will have the patience to listen to me, because it must be
said."
He did not answer. He merely stooped and stirred the fire to a higher
blaze, then turned and looked at her with those ever-watching eyes of
his.
Nan's hands were clenched unconsciously. She was making the greatest
effort of her life.
"It has come to this," she said, forcing herself with all her quivering
strength to speak quietly. "I do not wish to be your wife. I have
realized for some time that my marriage was a mistake, and I thought
it possible, I hoped with all my heart, that you would see it, too. I
suppose, by your coming back in this way, that you have not yet done so?"
He was standing very quietly before her with his hands behind him.
Notwithstanding her wild misgiving, she could not see that he was in any
way angered by her words. He seemed to observe her with a grave interest.
That was all.
A tremor of passion went through her. His passivity was not to be borne.
In some curious fashion it hurt her. She felt as though she were beating
and bruising herself against bars of iron.
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