‘Tell me, Frank, did you ever love any one before me?’

‘How badly trimmed the lamp is to-night!’ said he.  It was so bad that he went off instantly into the dining-room to get another.  It was some time before he returned.

She waited inexorably until he had settled down again.

‘Did you, Frank?’ she asked.

‘Did I what?’

‘Ever love any one else?’

‘My dear Maude, what is the use of asking questions like that?’

‘You said that there were no secrets between us.’

‘No, but there are some things better left alone.’

‘That is what I should call a secret.’

‘Of course, if you make a point of it—­’

‘I do.’

’Well, then, I am ready to answer anything that you ask.  But you must not blame me if you do not like my answers.’

‘Who was she, Frank?’

‘Which?’

‘O Frank, more than one!’

‘I told you that you would not like it.’

‘Oh, I wish I had not asked you!’

‘Then do let us drop it.’

’No, I can’t drop it now, Frank.  You have gone too far.  You must tell me everything.’

‘Everything?’

‘Yes, everything, Frank.’

‘I am not sure that I can.’

‘Is it so dreadful as that?’

‘No, there is another reason.’

‘Do tell me, Frank.’

’There is a good deal of it.  You know how a modern poet excused himself to his wife for all his pre-matrimonial experiences.  He said that he was looking for her.’

‘Well, I do like that!’ she cried indignantly.

‘I was looking for you.’

‘You seem to have looked a good deal.’

‘But I found you at last.’

‘I had rather you had found me at first, Frank.’  He said something about supper, but she was not to be turned.

‘How many did you really love?’ she asked.  ’Please don’t joke about it, Frank.  I really want to know.’

‘If I choose to tell you a lie—­’

‘But you won’t!’

‘No, I won’t.  I could never feel the same again.’

‘Well, then, how many did you love?’

’Don’t exaggerate what I say, Maude, or take it to heart.  You see it depends upon what you mean by love.  There are all sorts and degrees of love, some just the whim of a moment, and others the passion of a lifetime; some are founded on mere physical passion, and some on intellectual sympathy, and some on spiritual affinity.’

‘Which do you love me with?’

‘All three.’

‘Sure?’

‘Perfectly sure.’

She came over and the cross-examination was interrupted.  But in a few minutes she had settled down to it again.

‘Well, now—­the first?’ said she.

‘Oh, I can’t, Maude—­don’t.’

‘Come, sir—­her name?’

’No, no, Maude, that is going a little too far.  Even to you, I should never mention another woman’s name.’