Miss Prim reddened, drew her feet away from the fire, and curled them beneath her on the armchair.
“Of course you don’t have to. But we’ve talked about Herminia so often that I’m amazed you’ve never mentioned it, that’s all.”
“That’s all,” he echoed in a low voice.
They both sat staring into the fire for a few minutes. From the depths of the house came the distant, familiar sound of a clock chiming three times.
“Everyone knows that sentimental women are also nosy and malicious,” the librarian said suddenly. “So tell me, why did you and she part?”
The Man in the Wing Chair looked at her with amusement.
“If there’s one thing I’m sure of, Prudencia, it’s that you’re not a nosy person.”
Miss Prim smiled and got up to remove her coat.
“No, I’m not, but I’m keen on sociology, remember? I’m interested in human nature.”
“Sociologists aren’t interested in human nature. They just study human behavior in social groups, which is more limited and much less interesting.”
The librarian regarded her employer calmly. She was determined not to be provoked. It wouldn’t be easy, of course—nothing with him ever was—and she would be naive to expect otherwise.
“Did you leave her?”
“No.”
“That’s gallant of you, but it’s not true.”
“If you know it’s not true then why are you asking me? You don’t know me at all if you think I’m going to brag about leaving a woman,” he said sharply.
Miss Prim bit her lip and shifted position. This was going to be hard, very hard, extraordinarily hard.
“I’m sure you would have had a compelling reason. I know I have no right to ask about it.”
“You’re right. You don’t.”
Under normal circumstances she would have left it there. Deeply embarrassed, she would have mumbled an apology and fled upstairs. But these were definitely not normal circumstances. This evening Miss Prim felt possessed by a feverish urge to question him, to press beyond the bounds of courtesy, prudence, even common sense. She wanted to know the truth, she needed to know it and she wouldn’t back down.
“Was it because of your ideas? Because you’re deeply religious and she isn’t?”
He stared thoughtfully at the cup his employee was resting on her knees. Then he gave a gentle shake of the head and smiled.
“Ideas, Prudencia? You think faith is an idea? An ideology? Like market economics, or communism, or animal rights?” Now his tone was slightly mocking.
“In a way, yes,” she replied stiffly. “It’s a way of seeing the world, a view on how existence should be, as well as a big help in easing life’s problems.”
“Is that really what you think?”
“Of course. And partly because of you. Why else would a sensible, intelligent, rational person try to convert?”
With a half smile, he leaned his head in his hands.
“Try? You are absolutely priceless, Miss Prim.”
“That’s not intended as a compliment, is it?” she murmured sadly.
The Man in the Wing Chair rose and went to the fireplace. He picked up the poker, stirred the fire, and stared into the flames.
“Nobodytriesto convert, Prudencia. I told you once, but you clearly didn’t understand. Have you ever seen an adult playing with a child, running away and pretending to be caught? The child thinks he’s caught the adult, but anyone watching knows perfectly well what’s really happened.”
