him before. He must have noticed that something had happened to her? That she was different? Yes, he had noticed that at once. And it had hurt him.
"Well," she said, "after you went away I was very unhappy and hurt. I had no right to be, but I was. I thought that if you really liked me, you wouldn't have found it so necessary to go to Paris to learn painting. I thought you could have studied in New York just as well. I tried to be very gay, just the same, and went to lots of parties and danced all night and flirted my silly head off . . . but I guess we never really did care about each other—did we?"
"Maybe not," said Edward defensively.
"Everywhere I went there was always a certain man. He made me believe that he was there because I was, and for no other reason."
Now although Edward loved Anne, this statement gave him a sharp twinge of jealousy. And he said rather sullenly: "I see."
Alice took no note of the sullen tone. "I got to care about him," she said simply. "I got so that I really cared."
There was a little time of silence.
"Do I know him?" Edward asked.
"Yes. You know him . . . Father and mother didn't approve one little bit. That's why we came
