“What are you smiling at?”

“Your supposing that that would make any difference.”

“Doesn’t it?”

“Not a bit.  Not a little bit....  Besides I knew it.”

“Who—­who told you?”

“The only other person who knew about it, I suppose—­Conway.”

“He betrayed me?”

“He betrayed you.  Is there any vile thing he didn’t do?”

And it was as it had been before.  The nuns came out again, bringing the great cups of hot black coffee, coming and going gently.  Only this time she couldn’t drink.

“It’s awful of us,” she said, “to talk about him this way when he’s dead.”

“He isn’t dead as long as he makes you feel like that.  As long as he keeps you from me.”

A long pause.  And then, “Billy—­he wasn’t my lover.”

“I know that,” he said fiercely.  “He took good care to tell me.”

“I brought it all on myself.  I ought to have given him up instead of hanging on to him that way.  Platonic love—­It’s all wrong.  People aren’t really made like that.  It was every bit as bad as going to Gibson Herbert....  Worse.  That was honest.  This was all lying.  Lying about myself.  Lying about him.  Lying about—­love.”

“Then,” he said, “you don’t really know what it is.”

“I know John’s sort.  And I know Gibson’s sort.  And I know there’s a heavenly sort, Billy, in between.  But I’m spoiled for it.  I think I could have cared for you if it hadn’t been for John....  I shan’t ever get away from him.”

“Yes.  If you can see it—­”

“Of course I see it.  I can see everything now.  All that war-romancing.  I see how awful it was.  When I think how we went out and got thrills.  Fancy getting thrills out of this horror.”

“Oh well—­I think you earned your thrill.”

“You can’t earn anything in this war.  At least I can’t.  It’s paying, paying all the time.  And I’ve got more things than John to pay for.  There was little Effie.”

“Effie?”

“Gibson’s wife.  I didn’t want to hurt her....  Billy, are you sure it makes no difference?  What I did.”

“I’ve told you it doesn’t....  You mustn’t go on thinking about it.”

“No.  But I can’t get over his betraying me.  You see, that’s the worst thing he did to me.  The other things—­well, he was mad with fright, and he was afraid of me, because I knew.  I can’t think why he did this.”

“Same reason.  You knew.  He was degraded by your knowing, so you had to be degraded.  At least I suppose that’s how it was.”

She shook her head.  He was darker to her than ever and she was no nearer to her peace.  She knew everything and she understood nothing.  And that was worse than not knowing.

“If only I could understand.  Then, I believe, I could bear it.  I wouldn’t care how bad it was as long as I understood.”

“Ask McClane, then.  He could explain it to you.  It’s beyond me.”