"I am used to hard things. Have I not suffered enough these three long years—without him? And all that time I have never even mentioned his name: I have only thought of him—thought of him always."
"I am not asking you to forget him. But it is your duty to help him to forget you. Any woman can give up the world for a man—that is easy enough. When it comes to giving him up, for his own sake, it is another matter. If a woman can do that, it should atone for many sins."
Cynthia drew a long breath which sounded rather like a sob; then she went up to her bedroom. She came down half an hour later with a letter in her hand. Lady Theodosia saw that it was addressed to Godfrey. Cynthia posted it herself, as she had posted another letter nearly four years before. When she returned from the post it seemed as though she had lost her beauty. She was like one changed to stone.
"I have done it," she said to her aunt; "he will hate me when he reads it. When do you think I shall be able to cry?"
"I have not cried for twenty years," said Lady Theodosia—at which they both laughed. And yet it is said that women have no sense of humour.
