It seemed that Ann Kavanagh had disliked Matthew Pole less than she
had thought she did. It was after he had sailed away that little
Ann Kavanagh had discovered this. If only he had shown a little
more interest in, a little more appreciation of, Ann Kavanagh! He
could be kind and thoughtful in a patronising sort of way. Even
that would not have mattered if there had been any justification for
his airs of superiority.
Ann Kavanagh, who ought to have taken a back seat on this occasion,
had persisted in coming to the front. It was so like her.
"Well," she said, "what are you going to say to her?" She did get
it in, after all.
"I was going," said Matthew, "to talk to her about Art and
Literature, touching, maybe, upon a few other subjects. Also, I
might have suggested our seeing each other again once or twice, just
to get better acquainted. And then I was going away."
"Why going away?" asked Ann.
"To see if I could forget you."
She turned to him. The fading light was full upon her face.
"I don't believe you could--again," she said.
"No," he agreed. "I'm afraid I couldn't."
"You're sure there's nobody else," said Ann, "that you're in love
with. Only us two?"
"Only you two," he said.
She was standing with her hand on old Abner's empty chair.
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