"It doesn't make you unhappy?"
"No, not if--if it wasn't for that you cared."
"You know it wasn't."
She knew. She had always known it.
They sat silent a long time. Round and about them Brodrick's garden
slept, enchanted in darkness. Phantasmal, blanched by the dark, his
flowers dreamed on the lawn. An immense tenderness filled her for
Brodrick and all things that were his.
At last they rose and went hand in hand, slowly, through the garden
towards the house.
Her state was bliss; and yet, through it all she had a sense of
estrangement from herself, and of things closing round her.