sounded so much like a title out
of a movie--but he looked steadily at her and saw all the color go out
of her face and then return to it burningly.

"Well, that wasn't anything to be--forgiven about exactly--was it?" she
said unsteadily.

He spoke carefully, in broken sentences, only the knowledge that this
was the only way he could think of to help things nerving his mind. "It
wasn't being in France, Elinor. It was--the adjuncts. I don't suppose I
was any worse than most of my outfit--but that didn't make it any easier
when I had to tell her I hadn't been any better. I felt," his voice
rose, his literary trick of mind had come to his rescue now and made him
know just how he would have felt if it had really happened, "I felt
as if I were in hell. Really. But I had to tell her. And when she'd
forgiven me that--and said that it was all right--that it didn't make
any real difference now--I thought she was about the finest person in
the world--for telling me such nice lies. And after that--I was so sure
that it was all right--that because of her knowing and still being able
to care--it would last--oh well--"

He stopped, waiting for Elinor but Elinor for a person so voluble a
little while ago seemed curiously unwilling to speak.

"Lord knows why I'm telling you this--except that we started arguing
and you're nice enough to listen. It's not tea-table conversation, or
it wouldn't have been ten years ago--and if I've shocked you, I'm sorry.
But after that, as I said--I didn't think there was anything that could
separate us--really I didn't--and then just one little time when we
didn't quite understand each other and--over. Sorry to spoil your
illusions, Elinor, but that's the way people do."

"But how could she?" and this time there was nothing but pure hurt
questioning in Elinor's voice and the words seemed to hurt her as if she
were talking needles. "Why Ollie--she couldn't possibly--if she really
cared--"

All he wondered was which of them would break first.

"She could," he said steadily, in spite of the fact that everything in
his mind kept saying "No. No. No." "Any girl could--easily. Even you,
Elinor--if you'll excuse my being rude--"

For a moment he thought that his carefully plotted scenario was going
to break up into melodrama with the reticent, composed and sympathetic
Elinor's suddenly rising and slapping his face. Then he heard her say in
a voice of utter anger,

"How can you say anything like that,