His voice had changed, the joy had gone out of it; and she understood that something from the past had rolled up to spoil this hour. “I wonder,” she began, presently, “why I love you—and love you so much?. He carried her into his bedroom as she unfastened the tiny white buttons of his shirt. She walked for a mile or more recklessly, close veiled, with swift level footsteps, though her brain was in a whirl and a horrible faintness all the time hovered about her. She had discussed the general question of supplies with the helpful landlady. He addressed her by that title, and something in the tone disturbed her. Lady Angela shrugged her shoulders. “It really is not necessary. She leaned back in her chair. I can’t even carry a tune with a bucket. ” An awkward moment of silence followed.
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