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Must I believe it of him? Did you know I liked him? It hurts me to have you say that.’

‘Yes. I saw you liked him. So do I, said Hester, glancing at her. ‘No, he was never cruel. Never. He was kind, always. But kindness can trample, too, you know, if it’s blind. I only mean that he tore me to pieces without meaning to, because he was blind. It was because of him that my father cast me off, you know. It would be utterly unfair to blame Godfrey for that. I had all my theories, and if it hadn’t been him it would probably have been someone else. But my father came over to Paris and found me living there, in sin, as he called it, and cast me off. He is of that type and generation. And although Godfrey was very sorry about it, and wanted to make up in every way he could, he is of the type and generation that would never dream of marrying their mistress. He wasn’t free; and I never thought about marriage; and I’m not blaming him. All the same,’ said Hester, holding off her cigarette and surveying it, the bitter savour on her lip, ‘I don’t think I ever quite forgave him—among all the other things I didn’t forgive—when I realized that he looked upon me as a mistress. I’ve never told anyone about this; not even Clive. I am telling you because it makes you understand what I feel