"
I began to stammer feebly that I hoped she hadn't thought--But
again she stopped me, and her words were so unexpected that they
quite drove Cynthia, and her troubles, out of my mind.
"Mr. Hastings," she said, "do you think I and my husband are
happy together?"
I was considerably taken aback, and murmured something about it's
not being my business to think anything of the sort.
"Well," she said quietly, "whether it is your business or not, I
will tell you that we are _not_ happy."
I said nothing, for I saw that she had not finished.
She began slowly, walking up and down the room, her head a little
bent, and that slim, supple figure of hers swaying gently as she
walked. She stopped suddenly, and looked up at me.
"You don't know anything about me, do you?" she asked. "Where I
come from, who I was before I married John--anything, in fact?
Well, I will tell you. I will make a father confessor of you.
You are kind, I think--yes, I am sure you are kind."
Somehow, I was not quite as elated as I might have been.
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