The spell was now broken completely.
She quickly saw that something was wrong. "You don't seem very
cheerful," she said. "What's the matter?"
And the man, staring at her, suddenly blurted out, "Don't you
know what you did to me?"
"What I did to you?" Therese repeated wonderingly.
"You must know!" he insisted.
And then she tried to meet his gaze and could not. "Why--" she
stammered.
There was silence between them. When George spoke again his
voice was low and trembling. "You ruined my whole life," he
said--"not only mine, but my family's. How could you do it?"
She strove to laugh it off. "A cheerful topic for an afternoon
stroll!"
For a long while George did not answer. Then, almost in a
whisper, he repeated, "How could you do it?"
"Some one did it to me first," was the response. "A man!"
"Yes," said George, "but he didn't know."
"How can you tell whether he knew or not?"
"You knew?" he inquired, wonderingly.
Therese hesitated. "Yes, I knew," she said at last, defiantly.
"I have known for years."
"And I'm not the only man."
She laughed. "I guess not!"
There followed a long pause. At last he resumed, "I don't want
to blame you; there's nothing to be gained by that; it's done,
and can't be undone. But sometimes I wonder about it. I should
like to understand--why did you do it?"
"Why? That's easy enough. I did it because I have to live."
"You live that way?" he exclaimed.
"Why of course. What did you think?"
"I thought you were a--a--" He hesitated.
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