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And yet—he thought of the supper party where he had met Annabel Pellissier, the stories about her, his own few minutes’ whispered lovemaking! He was a self-contained young man, but his cheeks grew hot at the thought of the things which it had seemed quite natural to say to her then, but which he knew very well would have been instantly resented by the girl whom he had just left. Besides, the sun had gone in and it looked like rain. He stopped before her suddenly. “I am a fool,” he said. Very quietly, he added, “Oh Lucia, I’m sorry. She'll have this hour always with her; and you failed her. She felt anger at Sebastian, anger at the thrill that she felt in her loins upon seeing him, anger at herself for never having the courage to end her own life. White looked mysteriously about the room as though to be sure that no one was listening. Wanton! Had I been one, even God would have forgiven me, understanding.
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