tear fell down her cheek on to the dog's back, and convicted me of
unmitigated brutality.

"What else could you be but loyal?" I murmured. "Your attitude all
through has shone it."

She flashed her hand angrily over her eyes, and looked at me. "And I
wanted to be loyal to the end. If you had waited and she had waited, you
would have seen. As soon as I could have conveyed it to you decently, I
should have shown you----Ah!" She broke off, put the Yorkshire terrier
on the sofa beside her, and rose with an impatient gesture. "You want to
know why I called on Lola Brandt? I felt I had to know for myself what
kind of woman she was. She was the woman between us--you and me. You
don't suppose I ceased to care for you just because what we thought was
a fatal illness broke off our engagement! I did care for you. I cared
for you--in a way; I say 'in a way'--I'll tell you why later on. When we
met here the last time do you think I was not moved? I knew your altered
position would not allow you to suggest a renewal of the engagement so
I offered you the opportunity. Do you remember? But I could not tell
whether you still cared for me or whether you cared for the other woman.
So I had to go and see her. I couldn't bear to think that you might feel
in honour bound to take me at my word and be caring all the time for
some one else. I went to see her, and then I realised that I didn't
count. Don't ask why. Women know these things. And I found that she
loved you with a warmth and richness I'm incapable of. I felt I had
stepped into something big and splendid, as if I had been a caterpillar
walking into the heart of a red rose. I felt prim and small and petty.
Until then I had never known what love meant, and I didn't feel it;
I couldn't feel it. I couldn't give you a millionth part of what
that woman does. And I knew that having lived in that atmosphere, you
couldn't possibly be content with me. If you had waited, I should have
found some means of telling you so. That's what I meant by saying I
was loyal to you. And I thought I had made it clear to her. It seems I
didn't. It isn't my fault."

"My dear," said I, when she had come to the end of this astonishing
avowal, and stood looking at me somewhat defiantly and twisting her
fingers nervously in front of her, "I don't know what in the world to
say to you."

"You can tell me, at least, that my instinct was right."

"Which one? A woman has so many."

"That you love Lola Brandt."