His face had suddenly taken on a queer sharp look.
'Drop you?'
'It was quite a shock, Anna.'
'Oh dear,' she said, 'but everybody drops everybody else at that age, don't they?'
'I wouldn't know,' Conrad said.
'You're not cross with me still, are you, for doing that?'
'Cross!' he said. 'Good God, Anna! Cross is what children get when they lose a toy! I lost a wife!'
She stared at him, speechless.
'Tell me,' he went on, 'didn't you have any idea how I felt at the time?'
'But Conrad, we were so young.'
'It destroyed me, Anna. It just about destroyed me.'
'But how...'
'How what?'
'How, if it meant so much, could you turn right around and get engaged to somebody else a few weeks later?'
'Have you never heard of the rebound?' he asked.
She nodded, gazing at him in dismay.
'I was wildly in love with you, Anna.'
She didn't answer.
'I'm sorry,' he said. 'That was a silly outburst. Please forgive me.'
There was a long silence.
Conrad was leaning back in his chair, studying her from a distance. She took another cigarette from the pack, and lit it. Then she blew out the match and placed it carefully in the ashtray. When she glanced up again, he was still watching her. There was an intent, far look in his eyes.
'What are you thinking about?' she asked.
He didn't answer.
'Conrad,' she said, 'do you still hate me for doing what I did?'
'Hate you?'
'Yes, hate me. I have a queer feeling that you do. I'm sure you do, even after all these years.'
'Anna,' he said.
'Yes, Conrad?'
He hitched his chair closer to the table, and leaned forward. 'Did it ever cross your mind...'
He stopped.