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“
Always
?
”
“
I
don
’
t
mean
always
.
.
.
but
after
you
came
.
.
.
”
“
She
’
s
not
an
adventuress
.
”
“
You
mean
that
she
professes
to
act
on
the
new
theories
?
The
stuff
that
awful
women
rave
about
on
platforms
?
”
“
Oh
,
I
don
’
t
think
she
pretended
to
have
a
theory
—
—
”
“
She
hadn
’
t
even
that
excuse
?
”
“
She
had
the
excuse
of
her
loneliness
,
her
unhappiness
—
of
miseries
and
humiliations
that
a
woman
like
you
can
’
t
even
guess
.
She
had
nothing
to
look
back
to
but
indifference
or
unkindness
—
nothing
to
look
forward
to
but
anxiety
.
She
saw
I
was
sorry
for
her
and
it
touched
her
.
She
made
too
much
of
it
—
she
exaggerated
it
.
I
ought
to
have
seen
the
danger
,
but
I
didn
’
t
.
There
’
s
no
possible
excuse
for
what
I
did
.
”
Anna
listened
to
him
in
speechless
misery
.
Every
word
he
spoke
threw
back
a
disintegrating
light
on
their
own
past
.
He
had
come
to
her
with
an
open
face
and
a
clear
conscience
—
come
to
her
from
this
!
If
his
security
was
the
security
of
falsehood
it
was
horrible
;
if
it
meant
that
he
had
forgotten
,
it
was
worse
.
She
would
have
liked
to
stop
her
ears
,
to
close
her
eyes
,
to
shut
out
every
sight
and
sound
and
suggestion
of
a
world
in
which
such
things
could
be
;
and
at
the
same
time
she
was
tormented
by
the
desire
to
know
more
,
to
understand
better
,
to
feel
herself
less
ignorant
and
inexpert
in
matters
which
made
so
much
of
the
stuff
of
human
experience
.
What
did
he
mean
by
“
a
moment
’
s
folly
,
a
flash
of
madness
”
?
How
did
people
enter
on
such
adventures
,
how
pass
out
of
them
without
more
visible
traces
of
their
havoc
?
Her
imagination
recoiled
from
the
vision
of
a
sudden
debasing
familiarity
:
it
seemed
to
her
that
her
thoughts
would
never
again
be
pure
.
.
.
“
I
swear
to
you
,
”
she
heard
Darrow
saying
,
“
it
was
simply
that
,
and
nothing
more
.
”
