The unpardonable question. And he would always be asking it and she always answering sweetly with a lie; or else disagreeably with: ‘Nothing.’ No peace ever again, not even to think one’s private disloyal venomous thoughts. ‘I was thinking, Martin, I don’t believe you know a bit what I’m like.’ ‘I know enough to know I love you anyway,’ he said with hearty confidence. ‘You don’t,’ she said petulantly. ‘Because you’ve never troubled to find out what I’m really like. It’s never occurred to you there might be anything more than what you see. That’s so like a man.... Lord, how stupid! Everybody dismissed with a little label. Everybody taken for granted once they’ve passed a few idiotic conventional tests....’ ‘What on earth have I done now?’ cried Martin despairingly. ‘Nothing. Nothing. I’m only warning you.’ After a pause of non-comprehension he said gently: ‘Of course I don’t take you for granted, Judith. I could never do that. You’re so clever and beautiful and marvellous--much, much too good for me. Oh, my dear!--you don’t know how I value you.’ The tears came into his eyes. ‘Whatever happens, nothing can alter my idea of you. If I _could_ believe you had any faults, they’d only make me love you more.’ ‘Would they? Would they? You don’t know what revolting ones they are.’ He laughed and said indulgently: ‘It’s no good trying to frighten me.’ ‘It’s _true_,’ she cried. ‘D’you suppose I’m trying to be humble because I think it’s the correct idea?’ He said nothing, and she felt him trying with perplexity to think out the proper method of dealing with her mood. Finally he said: ‘Judy. I’ll tell you what seems to me the only important thing--and that is, that we should be absolutely truthful with each other. Don’t you agree? I think telling the truth is my only principle--besides washing. As long as I know exactly where I am, I can stand anything.’ He drew her to him and turned her face so that his warm kind eyes could look into hers. ‘I’ve always dreamt of finding someone I could tell everything to, and trust absolutely.’ Tell everything to.... O God! Was he going to say: ‘My wife and I must have no secrets from each other’? Was he that sort of fool? He went on: ‘Judith I might as well try to lie to myself as you. And I can’t lie to myself. Why if I were to stop loving you even--if that _could_ be--I’d have to tell you straight out. I couldn’t pretend. I _hope_ you couldn’t either.’ ‘No, I couldn’t.’ He went on with a shade of anxiety. ‘And supposing there was ever anything worrying you--anything on your mind--please try to tell me. You needn’t be afraid. I hope perhaps--you might think it was--rather nice to feel there was a person you could rely on always. Would you, Judith?’ He paused, breathless and deeply moved. ‘Yes, Martin.’ ‘Please think of me as that person.’ ‘I will, Martin.’ ‘You’re not worrying about anything now?’ ‘No, no.’