“I don’t intend to defend my conduct; it is indefensible.... But, Owen, I want you to believe that I did not lie to you. Ulick was not my lover when I went to see you that evening in Berkeley Square.”
It was necessary to say something, and, feeling that any unguarded word would jeopardise his chances, he said—
“I think I told you that night that you liked Ulick Dean. I can quite understand it; he is a nice fellow enough. Are you going to marry him?”
“No, I am not in love with him—I never was. I liked him merely.”
“I can understand; all those hours you spent with him studying Isolde.”
“Yes, it was that music, it gets on one’s nerves.... But, Owen, there is no excuse.”
“We’ll think no more about it, Evelyn. I am glad you do not love him. My greatest fear was to lose you altogether.”
S
