He began to walk up and down the room, and she grew more and more vexed at his dignified behaviour. She had counted on his being petty. It would have made things easier for her. By a cruel irony she was drawing out all that was finest in his disposition. “You don’t love me, evidently. I dare say you are right not to. But it would hurt a little less if I knew why.” “Because”—a phrase came to her, and she accepted it—“you’re the sort who can’t know any one intimately.” A horrified look came into his eyes. “I don’t mean exactly that. But you will question me, though I beg you not to, and I must say something. It is that, more or less. When we were only acquaintances, you let me be myself, but now you’re always protecting me.” Her voice swelled. “I won’t be protected. I will choose for myself what is ladylike and right. To shield me is an insult. Can’t I be trusted to face the truth but I must get it second-hand through you? A woman’s place! You despise my mother—I know you do—because she’s conventional and bothers over puddings; but, oh goodness!”—she rose to her feet—“conventional, Cecil, you’re that, for you may understand beautiful things, but you don’t know how to use them; and you wrap yourself up in art and books and music, and would try to wrap up me. I won’t be stifled, not by the most glorious music, for people are more glorious, and you hide them from me. That’s why I break off my engagement. You were all right as long as you kept to things, but when you came to people—” She stopped. There was a pause. Then Cecil said with great emotion: “It is true.” “True on the whole,” she corrected, full of some vague shame. “True, every word. It is a revelation. It is—I.” “Anyhow, those are my reasons for not being your wife.” He repeated: “‘The sort that can know no one intimately.’ It is true. I fell to pieces the very first day we were engaged. I behaved like a cad to Beebe and to your brother. You are even greater than I thought.” She withdrew a step. “I’m not going to worry you. You are far too good to me. I shall never forget your insight; and, dear, I only blame you for this: you might have warned me in the early stages, before you felt you wouldn’t marry me, and so have given me a chance to improve. I have never known you till this evening. I have just used you as a peg for my silly notions of what a woman should be. But this evening you are a different person: new thoughts—even a new voice—” “What do you mean by a new voice?” she asked, seized with incontrollable anger. “I mean that a new person seems speaking through you,” said he. Then she lost her balance. She cried: “If you think I am in love with some one else, you are very much mistaken.” “Of course I don’t think that. You are not that kind, Lucy.”