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There was something to it.
Afterward, when we were engaged, two or three times, you gave me tips
about things. And since we've been married ... Well, somehow, I've had
the feeling that you were on her side; that you saw things her
way--things that I didn't see."
"Little things," she protested; "little tiny things that couldn't
possibly matter--things that any woman would be on another
woman's--side, as you say, about."
But she contradicted this statement at once. "Oh, I _did_ love her!" she
said fiercely. "Not just because she loved you, but because I thought
she was altogether adorable. I couldn't help it. And of course that's
what makes me so perfectly furious now--that she should have done a
thing like this to you."
"All right," he said. "Never mind about that. This is what I want you to
do. I want you to go to see her, and I want you to ask her, in the first
place, to try to forgive me."
"What for?" Frederica demanded.
"I want you to tell her," he went on, "that it's impossible that she
should be more horrified at the thing I did than I am myself.


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