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‘Mistakes? Oh no; there are no mistakes now. There were before but not now, said Hester, glancing at her husband. ‘As for any you made, Monica—if you did make any—they have nothing to do with this situation.’

‘I think they have everything to do with it. I think they have involved us all. And the first thing for us to do is to see the truth together. All the truth.—Clive,’ she stood beside his bed and she looked down at him, ‘Hester saved my life yesterday. I was so miserable, believing that you hated me, that I went out to throw myself under a train, and she saved me. And, as we talked afterwards, she said one or two things that I shall never forget. One was that she thought me rather foolish to have believed that you hated me;—I saw that it was true, when she said it;—and another was that she wondered at me for having believed that anyone who loved you, and who had known your love, could have deceived you. She said that we love the people who do not make mistakes about us and that Godfrey Ingpen had made mistakes that tore her life to pieces; — while you had always understood.—And I have something to say to you, Hester. Clive cannot understand that you should still love the man who hurt you. But I can. I understand