Cynthia continued: "Of course, I can't change myself and not love you, just because you are married. There is no etiquette about loving. I shall always love you—always—always. I would tell your wife so." This idea seemed to please her. "I should be proud to tell her; but perhaps she wouldn't like it. It's a very strange thing, but although a woman may love a man herself, she can rarely forgive another woman for loving him."
"That wouldn't apply to Grace," he said, quickly; "love was a question we never raised."
"Then she doesn't love you?" said Cynthia.
"Certainly not."
"Then she ought. I've no patience with her."
"But I don't love her" said Provence; "have you no patience with me?"
"That's quite a different thing. She probably isn't lovable... I don't think I like Grace very much."
"You're both so utterly unlike. You wouldn't understand each other."
"I think we should understand each other well enough—if it comes to that. I'm sure I don't want to say uncharitable things, but it certainly wasn't nice of her to marry you when she didn't love you. I can't forgive that."
"But, Cynthia" He did not like to remind her of her own marriage. She saw, however, what was in his mind.
"There is no comparison between her case and mine," she said. "I was in a temper. You had certainly tried me very much. You know, Godfrey, you can be very trying indeed when you like."
"Trying! That is one of Grace's words."
