He had always wished that Anna 's eyes had not been quite so black . `` Anna is not here , '' said Alma . `` She is married . '' `` Married ! '' Gilbert sat down suddenly on a chair and looked at Alma in bewilderment . `` She has been married for a year , '' said Alma steadily . `` She married Charlie Moore of East Exeter , and has been living there ever since . '' `` Then , '' said Gilbert , laying hold of the one solid fact that loomed out of the mist of his confused understanding , `` why did she keep on writing letters to me after she was married ? '' `` She never wrote to you at all . It was I that wrote the letters . '' Gilbert looked at Alma doubtfully . Was she crazy ? There was something odd about her , now that he noticed , as she stood rigidly there , with that queer red spot on her face , a strange fire in her eyes , and that weird reflection from the maple enveloping her like an immaterial flame . `` I do n't understand , '' he said helplessly . Still standing there , Alma told the whole story , giving full explanations , but no excuses . She told it clearly and simply , for she had often pictured this scene to herself and thought out what she must say . Her memory worked automatically , and her tongue obeyed it promptly . To herself she seemed like a machine , talking mechanically , while her soul stood on one side and listened . When she had finished there was a silence lasting perhaps ten seconds . To Alma it seemed like hours .
Would Gilbert overwhelm her XXXXX angry reproaches , or would he simply rise up and leave her in unutterable contempt ?
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