It was about—a question of what I might do or might not do. “You remember our first meeting?” “Yes,” he answered hoarsely. She was an indignant queen, no doubt she was alarmed and disgusted within limits; but she was highly excited, and there was something, some low adventurous strain in her being, some element, subtle at least if base, going about the rioting ways and crowded insurgent meeting-places of her mind declaring that the whole affair was after all—they are the only words that express it—a very great lark indeed. We aren't between him and heaven; he is between us and heaven. There was something very wrong. I believed I was strong enough to go on in silence; but I'm human like everybody else.
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