Page:The Works of H G Wells Volume 7.pdf/532

 "You didn't show her?"

"No. But, I mean, she knows you write to me, and she knows you write about Socialism and Literature and—things we have in common—things she hasn't."

"You mean to say she doesn't understand these things?"

"She's not thought about them. I suppose there's a sort of difference in education"

"And she objects?"

"No," said Lewisham, lying promptly. "She doesn't object"

"Well?" said Miss Heydinger, and her face was white.

"She feels that— She feels—she does not say, of course, but I know she feels that it is something she ought to share. I know—how she cares for me. And it shames her—it reminds her— Don't you see how it hurts her?"

"Yes. I see. So that even that little—" Miss Heydinger's breath seemed to catch and she was abruptly silent.

She spoke at last with an effort. "That it hurts me," she said, and grimaced and stopped again.

"No," said Lewisham, "that is not it." He hesitated.

"I knew this would hurt you."

"You love her. You can sacrifice"

"No. It is not that. But there is a difference. Hurting her—she would not understand. But you—somehow it seems a natural thing for me to come to you. I seem to look to you— For her I am always making allowances"