youth. … You I meet you … and you happen to be married, you see."
"I? … Was she married, then?"
"No, no, she wasn't, then. But you are."
"This is a little difficult. You are married, too, aren't you?"
"Well, I am, I suppose."
He laughed and dropped his cigarette-end.
"But there are degrees in being married," he added. "I am married in the least degree possible."
When he did speak he was frank enough! Teresa felt he was moving now rather too rapidly.
"We were cousins," he went on calmly. "It was a family arrangement, I am sorry we have no children. It has been rather a failure—except that Adela has her freedom and can live where she likes. She hates the East, and, of course, it's no place out there for a woman—no theatres, no places to dine, no bridge—a savage place. Adela uses all her influence to get me into a better one, and I use mine to stay where I am. It's unfortunate she hasn't a husband that could be pushed on."
After a silence he asked:
"What are you thinking about—dreaming about? Your eyes are full of dreams."
"About what you've told me," she answered with a certain effort. "Come, let's walk on."
They were silent till they had passed the pine-
