"What?" she cried. "Even that absurd old Englishman with his little round wife at his elbow every second; you couldn't endure that I should spend a moment with them. At Bougie and when we left there you were unbearable. You think I presume too much in calling it jealousy; but that is what you showed me. I should know jealousy when I see it, by this time."
"Yes," he said. "I should think so, Madame Momoro."
She took his full meaning, and her colour still deepened. "You are kinder than ever, since you imply that I've seen it so often. Well, if I have, it is somesing I comprehend very well, and I will tell you that nothing is commoner than jealousy without love. You have felt it for me, and I think you feel it now; but you were never in love with me, my friend."
"How do you know?"
"Because that is another thing I have unfortunately seen often enough to comprehend a little. You had jealousy, but no more. You had"
"Let me tell you what I had," he interrupted roughly. "I had jealousy, yes; but it was not of you."
