“For how long would you go?”

“Perhaps three weeks.”

There was silence for a time.

“Well,” said Clifford slowly, and a little gloomily. “I suppose I could stand it for three weeks: if I were absolutely sure you’d want to come back.”

“I should want to come back,” she said, with quiet simplicity, heavy with conviction. She was thinking of the other man.

Clifford felt her conviction, and somehow he believed her, he believed it was for him. He felt immensely relieved, joyful at once.

“In that case,” he said, “I think it would be all right, don’t you?”

“I think so,” she said.

“You’d enjoy the change?”