Book I
18. Chapter XVIII.
(continued)
Archer reddened, and hurried on with a rush. "We
had a frank talk--almost the first. She thinks my
impatience a bad sign."
"Merciful heavens--a bad sign?"
"She thinks it means that I can't trust myself to go
on caring for her. She thinks, in short, I want to marry
her at once to get away from some one that I--care for
more."
Madame Olenska examined this curiously. "But if
she thinks that--why isn't she in a hurry too?"
"Because she's not like that: she's so much nobler.
She insists all the more on the long engagement, to give
me time--"
"Time to give her up for the other woman?"
"If I want to."
Madame Olenska leaned toward the fire and gazed
into it with fixed eyes. Down the quiet street Archer
heard the approaching trot of her horses.
"That IS noble," she said, with a slight break in her
voice.
"Yes. But it's ridiculous."
"Ridiculous? Because you don't care for any one
else?"
"Because I don't mean to marry any one else."
"Ah." There was another long interval. At length she
looked up at him and asked: "This other woman--
does she love you?"
"Oh, there's no other woman; I mean, the person
that May was thinking of is--was never--"
"Then, why, after all, are you in such haste?"
"There's your carriage," said Archer.
She half-rose and looked about her with absent eyes.
Her fan and gloves lay on the sofa beside her and she
picked them up mechanically.
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