At this gate two paths meet. “I did it for love of you,” he said. To a woman she might have confided; but to this man, kindly as he was, it was unthinkable. Then it came to her with a shock, as an extraordinary oversight, that she could never tell Manning about Ramage—never. Smith had never seen anything like it. Even then she had understood vaguely that she had touched upon some philosophy of life: that one was never lonely when alone, only in the midst of crowds. “Dear husband,” she murmured. I can’t even make myself care. “I thought you were coming right across the Park. Meet me. Or, if you must take off my clothes, don't dash cold water on my head.
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