’I half intended to tell you something about myself this evening, now I must.  Let us go in.  I shall come down to the sitting-room after your supper.’  She takes a long look at the river and the inn, as if fixing the place in her memory; it strikes me with a chill that there is a goodbye in her gaze.  Her eyes rest on me a moment as they come back, there is a sad look in their grey clearness.  She swings her little grey gloves in her hand as we walk back.  I can hear her walking up and down overhead; how tired she will be, and how slowly the time goes.  I am standing at one side of the window when she enters; she stands at the other, leaning her head against the shutter with her hands clasped before her.  I can hear my own heart beating, and, I fancy, hers through the stillness.  The suspense is fearful.  At length she says—­

‘You have been a long time out of England; you don’t read the papers?’

‘No.’  A pause.  I believe my heart is beating inside my head.

’You asked me if I was a free woman.  I don’t pretend to misunderstand why you asked me.  I am not a beautiful woman, I never was.  But there must be something about me, there is in some women, “essential femininity” perhaps, that appeals to all men.  What I read in your eyes I have seen in many men’s before, but before God I never tried to rouse it.  Today (with a sob), I can say I am free, yesterday morning I could not.  Yesterday my husband gained his case and divorced me!’ she closes her eyes and draws in her under-lip to stop its quivering.  I want to take her in my arms, but I am afraid to.

‘I did not ask you any more than if you were free!’

’No, but I am afraid you don’t quite take in the meaning.  I did not divorce my husband, he divorced me, he got a decree nisi; do you understand now? (she is speaking with difficulty), do you know what that implies?’

I can’t stand her face any longer.  I take her hands, they are icy cold, and hold them tightly.

’Yes, I know what it implies, that is, I know the legal and social conclusion to be drawn from it—­if that is what you mean.  But I never asked you for that information.  I have nothing to do with your past.  You did not exist for me before the day we met on the river.  I take you from that day and I ask you to marry me.’

I feel her tremble and her hands get suddenly warm.  She turns her head and looks at me long and searchingly, then she says—­

‘Sit down, I want to say something!’

I obey, and she comes and stands next the chair.  I can’t help it, I reach up my arm, but she puts it gently down.