"Dare? Did you expect me to lie? Is that what you wish?"
Gora clutched her muff hard against her throat. (Alexina wondered if she
had a pistol in it.) Her eyes looked over it pale and terrible. Alexina had
the advantage of her in apparent calm, but there was no sign of confusion
in those wide baleful irises with their infinitesimal pupils.
"You knew that I loved him. That I had loved him for twelve years."
"I _knew_ nothing of the sort. You had his picture on your mantel and you
corresponded with him off and on but you never gave me a hint that you
loved him. Twelve years! Good heaven! A friendship extending over such a
period was conceivable; natural enough. But a romance! When such an idea
did cross my mind I dismissed it as fantastic. You always seemed to me the
embodiment of common sense."
"There is no such thing. It is true--that I hardly believed it
then--admitted it. But I knew we should meet again. He never had married.
It looked like destiny when I did meet him. I nursed him--"
She paused and her eyes grew sharp and watchful, Alexina's face showed no
understanding and she went on, still watching.
"I nursed him back to life. Through a part of his convalescence. A woman
_knows_ certain things. He almost loved me then. If we could have been
alone he would have found out--asked me to marry him. We should be married
to-day. If I could have seen him constantly in London it would have been
the same.
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