ou'd only a ru--rudimentary heart."

"Really? That is interesting. When did she tell you that?"

"The very day we were engaged."

"And you believed her?"

"Not then. I did afterwards."

"How long afterwards--the other day?"

"Ye-yes; I think so."

"I see--when you wanted to believe it. Not before."

She was trembling, but she gathered together all her feeble forces for
the defence.

"No, no; don't you remember? At the very first--the day of our
engagement--we were both so miserable at the idea of your going away--we
did it all so recklessly--before either of us thought. You see, Ted, you
were so very young."

"It's a pity that didn't strike you before."

"It did, it did; but I wouldn't think of it. I blinded myself. The fact
is, we were both as mad as hatters. You know people can't get married in
that state. We should have had to wait for a--a lucid interval."

Ted recognised the miserable pleasantry; it was what he had said to her
himself a day or two after their engagement. The phrase had amused
Audrey at the time and lodged in her memory. She borrowed it now in her
hour of need, and laughed, unconscious of her plagiarism.

"I understand perfectly. You want to get rid of me as a proof of your
own sanity. Is that it?"

She looked up in the utmost surprise. "Not to get rid of you, Ted, of
course not. I shall still keep you as my best friend."

"Thanks. You had better not try to do that. I'm told I've no talent for
friendship."

"Then I suppose, after this, you'd rather I cut you, if we meet?"

"You can please yourself about that."

"You may be sure I shall. Oh, Ted, I didn't expect that from you! But
it's quite right. Hit hard, I can't defend myself."

"Please don't attempt it, there's no occasion to. Only tell me one
thing."

"Well?" She sat down as if wearied with this unnecessary trifling.

He paused.

"It's evident that you don't care about _me_. Do you care for any one
else?"

"You've no right to ask me that."

"Haven't I? I thought I had; and, if you'll only think a minute, you'll
agree with me."

She put her head on one side as if gravely considering the question.

"No. You've no right to ask me that."

"Let me put it differently--since your feelings are sacred, you needn't
tell me anything about _them_. Were you engaged to Hardy before you knew
me?"

"That question is even more impertinent than the last."

"I beg your pardon then. Don't answer it, if you don't like to."